The High Price of Perfection...and the Principle of Good'nuff (Part 2)

Hi, I'm Dorothy.  And I am a recovering perfectionist.  I was stuck on the perfection roller coaster for the first 56 years of my life.  Not just obsessed with grades (though I had to make an A, hopefully with the plus sign behind it).  I stressed about my athletic performance;  my weight/body image; even my musical pursuits. I could suck the fun out of any pursuit.  I'm working hard, at 57, to celebrate the luxury and IMPORTANCE of being just good'nuff...

Which takes me to this particular story, which began in Port Aransas, TX, on Saturday, November 10, 2012, right around 8:00 in the morning.  (I was there for a weekend songwriter workshop called Life's a Song.)  I was enjoying my 2nd cup of coffee, walking on the beautiful beach, breathing in the sea air and searching for shells.  My entire life, I had tried to find that perfect sand dollar.  You know, the one with absolutely no chips.  Unattainable perfection. I had never found it, until that particular morning... 

I had coffee in my right hand, and various seashells in the other.  It was a beautiful morning, with the seagulls swooping in and soaring and the waves gently rippling near my feet.  I had found 3 or 4 really cool shells that morning.  I had picked up a few broken sand dollars because they were certainly better than nothing.  I took a swig of my coffee and looked down and STOPPED IN MY TRACKS!  I did a doubletake...It couldn't be, but it WAS.  I knelt down, afraid to touch it.  To say that my heart skipped a beat is an understatement.

Okay, I've found the sand dollar.  I have coffee in one hand and seashells in the other.  I immediately dumped my coffee out (a rare occurence!) and dropped the shells I'd collected into the porcelain mug.  So now I have one hand free.  I pick it up oh so gently, in disbelief.  I had made the trek to the beach that particular morning to walk a few miles before the workshop began...but my walk was pre-empted by my need to get this sand dollar placed safely in some kind of protective shelter, so I wouldn't break it! 

I walked slowly back to my room and attempted to wrap it securely.  I tried paper towels, but kept checking it to see if it had gotten scratched or broken.  I tried tissue, but how much tissue would be needed to protect it?  If I had been home, I would have found some bubble wrap and a tiny box.  I thought about putting it in my car, in a cup holder, where I could watch it the whole way home.  Truly, I had found perfection, but it bothered the hell out of me!  What if I messed it up?  

Wait, isn't this really how I've been living my life?  Achieving this impossible status...and then stressing over keeping it that way?  I wrote a song ", said the sand dollar" about the epiphanies I gleaned from that little gift from the sea.  Here's a link to the song.   I sure hope you like it.  My performance was not perfect, but I think it was good'nuff!  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwAXl3oAqcw&feature=youtu.be 

until next blog post, peace and love to you...
dorothy

The High Price of Perfection...and the Principle of Good'nuff

I spent the first 56 years of my life feeling like I wouldn't be loved if I were not perfect.  There, I said it.  This obsession with perfection led me down a path that ultimately defined me.  My basic formula (Formula #1): 

 Hard work + determination = success, excellence and possibly perfection.  

But excellence carries a heavy burden.  Once you've achieved it, it becomes your identity.  Let the perfection continue, or you will feel like you've failed, you will let people down, you will be considered a less-than.  Welcome to my world... 

By the time I hit my 20s, I had developed a careful plan of attack to avoid failure.  Here's an example.  I graduated from LSU in 1978, magna cum laude (almost perfect, right?).  So I've got my diploma in one hand, and a bar that I set way too high in the other!!  What happens if I interview and get a job in my field...and I fail?  Panic set it.  I put my diploma of excellence in my box of memories...and began work as a waitress at a sit-down fast food restaurant instead.  I knew I could do that, and do it well!  Here is my basic formula for avoiding failure (Formula #2):

When fear of failure + lack of confidence seem > my ability,

RUN LIKE HELL

There have been times in my life that I might have set the bar way to low, by using this particular formula!   (That might explain why I'm a prolific songwriter...never run out  of stories to tell!  Yet I digress...).  

NOTE:  For those of you who know me personally, did you know I graduated from LSU magna cum laude?  Probably not, unless I told you.  No one knows.  No one cares.  But the need to achieve this level of excellence CONSUMED my every waking hour. To commemorate this honor, was I awarded a special sticker on the diploma that is hidden in my box of memories?  I don't remember, but I think I'll check.  Think of all the fun I missed out on, seeking perfection, for a little sticker that no one knows or cares about.  

I'm developing a formula for my new life plan of attack.  I'm deleting the "P" word from my vocabulary as of now.  (No, don't make me type it again.  Just look at the title if you're in doubt.)  I'm resetting the bar and coining a new moniker for myself!  Ready?  Good'nuff.  I took my new attitude out for a test drive last night, and I gotta say that I sure had more fun when I avoided trying to be p*#%(#t.  

I'm a musician by trade.  Guitar is my go-to instrument, but I also play mandolin, uke, dulcimer and keys when called upon.  I bought a cello 3 years ago, and spent hours at home, working through books and practicing, but when I took her out to play, I wasn't, well, you know the word.  According to Formula #1, I sucked.  I decided either I had to IMPROVE or I was gonna give her away...I couldn't have something in my house that reminded me of failure!  

Three months ago, I joined a wonderful group, The Adult Music Club of Baton Rouge.  The brainchild of the ever-talented and amazing musician Dave Hinson, our club brings together a group of adults wanting to learn how to play music, in a group, under Dave's tutelage!  Just last night, my band (The Blue Meteor) had a gig at Chelsea's, a top Baton Rouge music venue.  We played 8 Beatles songs and me and my cello were part of the action!!!  Did I nail every lick and play every single note in perfect tone?  No,  I'm a beginner.  Did I have a few moments where my playing was pretty spot-on?  Hell, yes!  Did I have the most fun I've ever had playing music out in the world?  YES!  I can't wait for our next gig...and all the others to follow.

You know, I joined the club to have a place to make peace with my cello and I am, in fact, learning the cello!  But it's working out that I'm learning so much more.  Last night, on stage at Chelsea's, I learned how much fun you can have when you live completely in the moment, doing something you love, with no expectation of the "p" word.  I think you could ask everyone there, and they'd agree, I was Good'nuff!

Until next blog post, peace and love to you...dorothy

LIFE AFTER ANOREXIA...I was one of the lucky ones.

Some of you may remember the story of Karen Carpenter and her eating disorder that originated in the 1970s and finally ended in 1983, very tragically.  Her disorder began in the throes of stardom, in reaction (among other things) to comments in the press that she was overweight, chunky.  What started as a 'diet' became the compulsive and unhealthy focus on food, calories, and starvation that would ultimately lead to her death.  Because of her high-profile status, her illness and attempts at rehabilitation shed light on something that I was living (unbeknownst to me) at the same time. 

I was a high school senior at an all-girls' school in the spring of 1975.  I remember it like it was yesterday!  I had a lunchtime ritual, which would keep me isolated and, more importantly, away from the school cafeteria. I did NOT want to draw attention to the handful of lettuce I would nibble on for 30 minutes.  (Total:  5 calories during the middle of the day.)  It was much easier to sit outside, under the flagpole, and work trig problems or read.  One day, I brought my new Seventeen Magazine to peruse.  I stumbled upon an article about anorexia nervosa.  I had never heard the terminology...but I understood that article because I WAS LIVING IT. 

The article sounded like it was about ME.  It spoke of a teenaged girl, a compliant perfectionist, not particularly attractive, valedictorian of her high school, excellent athlete, very active in extracurricular activities, a loving daughter...who was starving herself.  She felt like her life was spinning out of control, but there was one thing she could control!  No one could force her to eat.  She lived on little more than the 'high' she got as she watched and measured every ounce of normal, necessary body fat disappear.  I began at a normal 135 pounds, and 3-1/2 years in, I bottomed out at 94 pounds on a 5'5-1/2" frame...hair falling out, kidneys failing (but thank God, heart still pumping.)  I shiver to think of my fate, had I not found that magazine article, and had I not had friends who rallied around me with encouragement and compassion.

I had a very small core group of friends who had known me for 10 years at that point.  I showed them the article.  They were shocked, as was I, to read my story in print.  They came up with a plan and, before I knew it, I was in self-help rehab!  We had a senior trip planned in a few months.  I needed to gain 10 pounds before then.  Each of them, in turn, wanted to lose a little weight.  They would gingerly walk me into the cafeteria each day at noon and proceed to trade their mashed potatoes for my salad, filling my plate with higher-calorie and healthy foods as they feasted on my low-cal favorites.  If I ate the appropriate portions, they rewarded me with a chocolate milk shake...and a lot of pride and praise from my friends, who were actually helping to save my life.  

There is so much more I could share.  I would love to personally thank the writer of that article.  I would love to hug each of my friends and acknowledge their bravery and dedication in starting my healing journey.  I opted for a more comfortable approach, to write a song that would:

• explain the realities of anorexia to loved ones of sufferers; 
• offer support and understanding to sufferers;
• offer hope of recovery, that will probably span a lifetime!  One day at a time...

Please watch this song about my own struggle that I would later acknowledge as anorexia nervosa.  I recorded this myself (so the sound quality won't be that of my professionally done videos) and had my producer insert some pictures of me at different stages of my disorder and recovery.  I would love to know that my song brought attention to or simply explained the pain of this condition to people who are struggling, in some capacity, with the disease.   

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggQ6aH1z90c

Please please please forward this to anorexics and their loved ones, to fellow survivors, to guidance counselors, to teachers.  I want to do my part to enlighten, just like Seventeen Magazine did for me in spring of 1975.  

as always, until next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy