Losing it in the checkout aisle (aka: Being Flawsome)
I lost it in the middle of Publix today. Yes, right there in the checkout line, ecofriendly shopping bags in one hand while my other shakily tapped out my code, I felt the tears well up and begin to spill out. That break down moment was the crescendo of a cacophony of small almost-breakdown moments that had speckled the last few weeks. Feeling particularly edgy from typical entrepreneur overwhelm and burnout, mixed with lack of sleep due to sick kids, I started the day in survival mode. The day continued with me spilling my tea all the inside of my car, dealing with double booking two clients and forgetting to send a vital email. Later, whilst rushing to take my kids to their afternoon activities I got a call from my husband who tells me I left the garage door wide open all afternoon. This is the same garage that doubles as his very extensive and expensive wood working workshop. This is also the same garage door that opens right into our house by a door that is rarely locked. Thankfully, nothing was taken or awry at all, and he assured me “all was well”.
But all was not well. I was not “well” at all.
In fact, as I walked into Publix, running on fumes and skittish with the beginnings of a full on shame sh*t storm I swallowed it down again. Getting the items I needed, I found a line in the now crowded store. As I stood there getting ready to pay, the cashier very kindly reminded me, “This is the eight and under line. Next time, if you have a full cart of groceries, could you please use another line?” Horrified, I glanced around at the long line of customers behind me shaking their heads in disapproval.
And it happened. That is precisely when the dam broke that was deftly holding back the well of emotion that had been building for days
My tears began to spill along with my apologies as I watched the once disapproving expressions around me turn to concern. The cashier assured me over and over it was indeed alright, “No harm done ma’am”. The lovely man bagging my groceries began patting my shoulder. Even the fellow waiting in line behind me handed me a napkin. Grateful, but messy with vulnerability, I left as fast as I could, leaving a string of apologies in my wake.
This is the thing. Sometimes we just lose it. Sometimes we don’t have it all together. Sometimes we don’t have things in control at all. Sometimes we have to breakdown to break through.
And you know what? That is absolutely okay.
As recovering perfectionist, embracing this truth has always been a challenge. Perfection actually stems from a part of us associated with control. It stems from a need to manage the world around us by mitigating and anticipating any disturbance in the force. Most of the time, perfection has nothing to do with an ego desire of excess hubris but a deep need to feel safe. The quest of perfection is an endless journey to find something “outside” that will finally fill us enough, make us worthy enough, complete our lives enough and smooth any of our rough edges enough so we will finally feel enough. Perfection is exhausting because it is a practice of allowing outside expectations to define us, comparisons to degrade us, and criticisms to attempt to inspire us. The thing is, perfection doesn’t work because it doesn’t exist out there. There is no place we will get to in life where we will magically win the perfection badge.
Yet, in in that moment, standing in my own uncertainty and vulnerability watching, the mask of perfection fall away. I allowed myself to be imperfect and in that moment, I actually found what I was looking for. Because the truth is, perfection is found the moment we allow ourselves to simply be whole embracing the shadow and light, the flawed and awesomeness of own we are. Perfection is found the moment we stop looking for it.
