What Gives?

Perfectionist:  a person who is displeased by anything that does not meet very high standards

I'm a perfectionist.  I get it from my mom.  My perfectionism is pretty mild by her standards but I'm a perfectionist just the same.  Nothing is ever good enough for me.  I am always striving to do better, to be better.  It's exhausting.  

I thought I'd actually improved over the years.  My house does not have to be spotless anymore. I can leave home without showering or putting on makeup (with two small kids, I'd never get out of the house otherwise). I no longer feel the need to scrub the baseboards before my mother comes to visit.  In reality, though, I haven't become less of a perfectionist; I've just focused my high standards elsewhere - meal planning, couponing, cooking, mothering.

Since my post entitled sMOTHERed my husband has been graciously trying to help me find some rest and rejuvenation.  It's nothing he didn't know already, but I think seeing my feelings of exhaustion written out like that made what I'm going through all the more real for him.  So today he comes home from church (I've been staying home on Sundays for some much-needed alone time) and tells me that they talked about resting; that in today's fast-paced society, we often can't keep up a sustainable pace without rest.  

So he asks me what is one thing I see him doing that is not sustainable at the pace at which he's going.  That's easy: his job.  

Next, he asks me what is one thing I'm doing that is not sustainable.  I know the answer, but I don't want to utter it aloud so I ask him to tell me: trying to be a perfect mother.  

YOWZA!!  He hit that nail on the head.  Have I told you how brilliant and my husband is?  Well, I don't always appreciate it.  

"You've got to let something go, Renee" he tells me.  "You can't sustain this pace anymore."

He's right.  He's totally right.  But here's the rub:  

When you're a perfectionist, it seems like there's nothing you're able to let go of.  If you're not going to do it perfectly, then you might as well not do it at all.  So what gives?

Do I stop planning tasty, healthy, economical meals for my family and purchase a bunch of frozen convenience meals instead?  This would go against our goal of eating less processed food.

Do I stop spending hours each week matching grocery sale adds to coupons in order to get the most groceries for our money?  Nope.  Our budget just doesn't allow for that.

Do I stop scouring Pinterest for ideas and tips to add to my ongoing spreadsheet for our upcoming Disney vacation?  What if I miss something that could make or break our time there?  

There's never a good answer for me.  I know it's ridiculous and I know that if I don't let something go right now, I'm going to implode (that's probably why I'm lying in bed right now nursing a cold).      

The essential message about rest is this:  

Your life moves to a better place when you move at a sustainable pace. 

I want my life to move to a better place.  I want to feel happier and calmer and more rested.  And the universe has just helped me take a baby step in that direction.  While I'm in bed sick, my husband is in charge.  He's deciding what to cook; he's deciding when to clean up; he's deciding how to entertain the kids.  It's not at ALL how I would do it, but you know what?  I'm finding myself able to look the other way and enjoy the bigger gift he's giving me.

The gift of rest.