On Failing to Give My Best, Everytime

Do you ever feel like you’re never giving things as much time as they deserve? As much time as you’d like to give them?

I feel this way ALL. THE. TIME.

(Especially right now as I realize it's been a MONTH since I last blogged.)

It’s partly the plight of being a bit (okay, more than a bit) Type-A. Checking things of the list is sometimes the most important thing in my world, but only if I can check them off with a satisfactory exclamation of “Yes! I gave that my full and best effort, and could not have done it any better.”

It doesn’t even have to be a perfect product. I can live with mistakes. That’s just a part of the process. 

No, it doesn’t have to be perfect, but I just have to have given it my best, every time.

The problem is that my definition of “my best,” is always very high. Sometimes unattainably so.

Part of the problem is, I think that I should be able to get things done in a certain amount of time. Sometimes I’m right about the amount of time it will take. Sometimes, I’m horribly, horribly wrong. Then things get shuffled, pushed off, neglected, to the point where when I am forced to address those things, I don’t have enough time to be able to give them my best effort and attention.

 

Office (via stock.xchng)

Then the guilt sets in. Guilt that I didn’t give it my all. That I let other stuff get in the way of doing my best work, of living my best life. That I let “good enough” for other people be my “good enough.”

And that, for whatever neurotic, perfectionist reason, is unacceptable to me. That, my friends, is failure.

It’s not about failing to do something. It’s about failing to do it well.

And I fail to do things well all the damn time. And it drives me crazy.

But here’s the funny thing. To the outside world, I’m sure most everything seems fine. I still get the things done I need to get done. I’m still a productive worker and a “have it together” wife, daughter, and friend (most of the time). But inside, it’s a different story.

Where the sausage gets made is sometimes a guilt-ridden, imperfect, hideous mess.

And I know what you’re thinking, “give yourself a break, you’re only human.”

Yes. I am.

But the world is constantly throwing messages of “do more, be better, you should be able to do it all, all the time, all while keeping it together and being perfectly happy all the time.” And frankly, I expect more out of myself than is probably reasonable, due in part, but not entirely, to these messages.

The other part of it is just me. Plain, old, failed me.

I’ve always been this way. The drive to do and be more, to give my best no matter what, is a characteristic I’ve always had. It's a large part of what's gotten me where I am today, no question.

A friend was recently reflecting on her own life and said that despite the perception of the outside world that everything is fine and dandy, sometimes what’s going on behind the scenes is a total mess. But that accepting and living in that mess is often the hardest part.

But living in the mess, where things seem to be falling apart, where nothing goes as planned, and where pity is a more common bedfellow than joy, well that’s part of the process of life.

I realize I’ve got a lot of things in my life together. And there’s a lot of great stuff happening in my life right now. I’m thankful and grateful for all of the opportunities, successes, support, and just plain luck I’ve had in life.

But that doesn’t stop me from feeling like a failure when I can’t put 125,000% into everything I do all the time.

I know it’s not realistic to expect that, but here I am.

Does anyone else out there feel like this? Or am I, as I often feel, alone in my perfectionist-driven guilt-fest?

…and now on to the next task, to give it my all, and nothing less…