I catch the pickiest of typos as I'm reading. I notice little details in life that most other people would overlook. I am thinking constantly, analyzing people's words and actions to figure out how I should be feeling, what I should say, and what I should do.
It's exhausting.
The worst part about being a perfectionist is facing the fact that I make mistakes. It seems like those happen more and more often.
In my younger years, my mistakes would throw me for a loop because they surprised me so much. I remember being incredulous one day because I realized that I didn't know how to spell "dilemma" (in my mind it was "dilemna") and I wondered what else I was wrong about.
When I made a mistake I beat myself up for it until I felt I could move on.
Fast forward to 51-year-old me.
I'm staying with our daughter Erin for the weekend in Lincoln, Nebraska. Tonight I took her dog Charlie for a walk while Erin was out. When we got back to the apartment complex, I got out Erin's key and put it in the outside door. That's funny, it worked before but now it won't turn.
A lady came up the sidewalk as I was struggling with the key. I stepped aside and said something about it being my daughter's and that it wasn't working. "You have to turn it to the right," she offered. She opened the door with her key and let Charlie and I go in before her. We headed up the stairs to 312, but when we reached that floor and got into the hallway I was surprised to see a wreath on Erin's door. A wreath? Was that there before? The number said 312, but suddenly the truth dawned on me.
The lady from before was a couple of doors down, getting into her apartment.
"I think I'm in the wrong building!" I announced.
"That's probably why your key didn't work," she said.
Charlie and I made an embarrassed beeline down the stairs and out the door. We made it to Erin's building and went up the two flights of stairs to her wreathless apartment door.
I felt silly, but there was none of the old despair and shame I would have felt years ago.
It was dark and these buildings all look pretty much the same, especially after you get inside. It was an easy mistake to make.
We have to face the fact that we are going to make mistakes. Beating ourselves up about them isn't going to do anyone any good. Learning something so we don't make the same mistake next time is more helpful.
Maybe we can even get to the point where we can laugh at ourselves.
I'm sure that lady in the next building over had a little chuckle tonight.
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| At least Charlie and I finally made it home! |
Do your mistakes bother you too much, or can you laugh at most of them? How can focusing on God help you to live more freely and not feel condemnation when you make a mistake?
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