Dear Perfection, it’s time to break up.


Photographed by Mark Nickerson

I wanted to write a fancy post on how to overcome that feeling of utter defeat.  I had it all wrapped up with a beautiful bow. It was straight from my heart and I meant every word that I said.

Then, life happened…

I can’t post it today or I would be a fraud.

Yep, today stinks. It has been one of those, I want to go back to bed and pretend this never happened kind of day.

It wasn’t anything specific; in fact it’s probably the tail end of the winter blahs and mounting pressure from not leaving the house enough thus rousing a case of cabin fever.

And if you could peek in my house right now, here is what would see:

I’ve just changed from one pair of leisure pants/leggings to another, because let’s face it, we aren’t going anywhere fancy!  The homeschool hair that had been so beautifully tamed by my outstanding friend/beautician, now has taken its rightful place in the”I haven’t slept in days,” look.

The kids are looking at me and I see their mouths moving a mile a minute but my brain is just too tired to care.

I don’t care that she didn’t eat her meat.

I don’t care that he stole your pencil.

I don’t care that you can’t find the cat.

Scratch that.

Back peddle.


What happened to the cat?

Oh. Okay. You didn’t shut the back door tight enough, and he could wander out.

Of course.

Have you ever seen a firecracker? (Stay with me here. This should hopefully all make sense by the end)  You know, it’s small and not really all that interesting to look at.  But then you casually light the fuse thinking some pretty sparkles might come out of the deal and… KABOOM!!!

Well yes there were flames and sparkles. But everything near the firecracker is torched!

It was my late grandfather’s nickname for me.


(Yep, I earned it too!)

When I was little our friends joked, I was so small that when I rode a Chihuahua, my feet didn’t drag.

We little ones have to be scrappy.  We look like easy bait, but just like a pepper, the smaller the size, the more potent the heat.

“You just picked the wrong pepper mister!”

Who am I yelling at?

Well, when I get down to it, I am mad at myself.

I think women are under more pressure than ever.  We are expected to do it all and look good while we are at it.

However we weren’t meant to do it all.  One hundred years ago, women were just concerned about trying to survive.  They were fighting for the right for equality and just being able to support their families.

Now we have to look spectacular while doing it.

Can we do that with just one or two tasks?  Sure!

Three or four? Probably.

Five or six? Okay, now but you are pushing it.

Seven or eight? No. NO!

On top of that we are supposed to be in shape like Wonder Woman and have our make-up  perfectly applied.

It is not going to happen.

I realized a couple of days ago, I am a perfectionist-aholic wannabe (If I was healthier and richer maybe I could pull it off?)

I realized I am in bondage. Bondage that only I have created.

My husband supports me, I have a beautiful family, and great friends. There is a difference between wanting to do stuff and being able to do stuff. My body has been through a lot these past five years and I need to give it the grace, I so willingly give to others that I refuse to give myself.

So I can’t multi-task like I used to.  So my mind wants to be at every function, but then my body abruptly stops and says, “No way Jose’!”

It’s not a reflection of my character, it’s just a flaw in body.

I can only do so much, and that’s okay.

I wear my heart on my sleeve. My house gets messy. My kids fight. I sometimes blow up. I sometimes don’t get done half of what I thought I should.

And that’s okay!

We are all doing the best that we can, and that should be enough. I am not a machine like the media-tells me I should be. Talk about double messages.  Food commercial followed by a weight lost commercial.  Food commercial, followed by a weight loss commercial….

Really??  So I am encouraged to eat, then I’m shamed for it!?

Plus the make-up commercials spouting, “Do you want to look years younger?”

I have earned every line on my face. These lines show I care!! Not only that, they show I care about others and not just myself.

I have heard of women not smiling just to prevent laugh lines. But I need a good gut-busting laugh and I love to smile!  Life is too short not to smile!

So I am throwing away my dreams of perfection.  I am tired of trying in vain to do something that just isn’t necessary.

It’s okay to say no.

It’s okay to not be put together.

It’s okay to let things slide in order to enjoy life a little more.

It’s okay that we are marching to the beat of our own drum.

There is no how-to, because we are just going to throw our lists out the window!

So who is with me? Let’s chuck our “perfection” into the fire and just enjoy life again.

Who cares what others think. I am running my own race. I am here to help in anyway that I can, but I can’t be perfect.

Ahh, I feel better.


But better.

So goodbye perfection.

You look nice, but you aren’t worth it.

7 thoughts on “Dear Perfection, it’s time to break up.

  1. Love it, Kelly! But what I love even more is seeing how far you have come in your “writing abilities”. Don’t get me wrong, I have always loved reading what you write, but now . . . wowie! Keep writing, girl!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Kelly, As always your words draw me in and endear me to your heart. Thank you for being transparent. You are the kind of friend anyone would count a treasure. You love, forgive and accept with your whole heart. It’s time you break up with perfectionism. 😉 We cannot be perfect but we can all receive His grace. It’s the gospel. Great writing Kelly-girl!


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