A Recovering Perfectionist

Most people I know confess that they are “Type A.” Are we all just trying to control something? Are we all Type A to an extent?

I used to think I’ve let go of controlling everything, a recovering Type A, if you will. Type B, I suppose? But now I just filter this perfectionism to organic eating and parenting, so who am I kidding?

Life has been difficult for me recently, internally, and I can’t understand why. I’ve broken down in tears more than once in the middle of the day, a puddle on the kitchen floor. I rarely hide my emotions from my kids (intentionally because I want them to see we all have ups and downs) but I’m pretty certain they are so confused by me lately. I keep trying to write how I feel but I don’t have words. I can’t explain why I’m so emotional lately or how these feelings surface like a summer storm and drift away.

I read that 4 planets are in retrograde and shifting the earth’s energy. It made me feel better about my storms. I’ve been creating so much that there hasn’t been much time for consumption. I’ve been making space for more reading and listening of things and people that inspire me. The effects are medicinal for me.

We all have those “things” that are our strengths, our anchors, what carries us and what carries others at times. And we all have those traits or “things” that continuously, painstakingly, FEROCIOUSLY at times visit us again and again presenting yet another opportunity to work on ourselves.

“The best predictor of a child’s well-being is a parent’s self-understanding,” is a quote I respect from Dr. Dan Siegel and the motto of Zen Parenting Radio. They used to say it every podcast episode. Sometimes it sounded so mundane because I’ve heard it so many times, but most times it really feels amazing, so simple yet complex.

So when I know and feel that my awareness is basically unawareness or foggy or I’m reacting more frequently than thoughtfully living with intention, all the red flags go up. It’s when my journal pages get scribbled on intensely and feelings literally move out of me through a pen and once I’ve said or written them – sometimes to no one other than my secret journal – life feels manageable again.

The hardest thing in all of this is it makes no sense, it can’t be understood with the mind, there’s no physical result to finally feel “done” with my latest emotional roller coaster…I just need to let it go and move on. And that’s where the Type A comes back into play. For me at least, I see it creep up.

So I try again to look at what is mine, how I’m living, what I’m choosing to do each and every hour of my days with a beginner’s mind and a curious heart. It gets me through to the next season of ease and joy and blinding love – because they always come back around. I know that for sure.

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