Finding Something to Say

Determined to be Queen shares...

Sometimes I get this feeling and I just can’t speak. It’s like a wall, or a dam, and not even a trickle of a thought can get by it. That’s how I’ve felt about writing this blog for the past week and a half. Normally, I would have had strong words for myself about being a “wimp” or a “baby” or some other pejorative to indicate my inability to act appropriately—my failure to act at all, as it were. But this time, I used the opportunity to understand a pattern.

I believe that most of us could admit to having a natural rhythm of ebb and flow, like the tides. Sometimes we come rushing in at our life, full of energy and powerful strokes, and then we back off a bit, regroup or tone down some of the intensity, and then come back at it for another push. We wake and sleep. We have lots of verve and then go limp on the couch. We’re happy. We’re sad. It’s humanly impossible to keep barreling through life, full steam ahead, 24/7!! Frankly, we just need to vary the pace—regularly—to survive it at all.

This idea so often eludes the perfectionist in me. I want it all, all the time, all the way. No wonder I’ve spent so much time being exhausted!!! (I’m really starting to see the “woman who [does] too much” in me!)

However, I’m pleased to tell you that I spent the week and a half of blogging silence enjoying the heck out of my life and not worrying about when my next post would be. I let myself believe that the post would come when it needed to. (There’s always another post in me somewhere, right?) I went with the flow, dude, and I must say, IT ROCKED!!!

I was able to spend two whole days preparing my daughter’s 15th birthday celebration. I continued to do my workouts and follow my diet (ok, except for a few indulgences, but that’s another story). I went to an all-day seminar. I started taking a course with my husband (yay!!). I watched a movie by myself during the work day (formerly a big “no-no”). I talked to some friends on the phone, or went and had tea. I paid the bills, bought some groceries, cleaned a little and played with the dog. I even went to the Houston Rodeo for the very first time! In short, I just lived my simple, quiet life and enjoyed it. I didn’t judge it or rush it or over-schedule it or beat myself up because it wasn’t perfect.

I honestly think that I was about twenty-eight years old before I realized how much mental time and space I had devoted to expecting my every thought, word, and deed, to be perfect; although I never used the word “perfect.” I thought about improving things. Oh, this can be better next time and that could be more efficient! I could be more patient or the house could be neater—at least more often! I thought I was challenging myself to be better and to do more, and isn’t achievement and growth a good thing? Why would learning from today and making it better tomorrow be a negative endeavor? Well, it’s not; at least, not in theory anyway.

But when life holds no true enjoyment; no, not enjoyment...but what? When you can never feel satisfied—or when you don’t know what that means—then perfectionism has its hooks in you. I’ve had to learn what being satisfied means over the last decade or so. For me, it means to be able to be still and survey the scene with a smile and an inner “Aahhhhhh!” No judgment (straighten this, add that)…no anxiety (how long will this last?)…no worry (surely something isn’t quite right with this picture)…no expectation (I wonder if this will happen again soon)…no blame (this could have been better if you or someone else had only…)…no nothing…just PEACE—the kind that makes your face beam and your eyes twinkle.

That’s the space where there is no wall. No dam either. And in that moment, there’s no need to say anything at all.


© Nicole J. Williams, 2007, all rights reserved.