This was a painful post to write. Just sayin'. You'll see why.
Detail-oriented perfectionists would love to define "life" as a series of planned and controlled events from birth to death. I can say this because I am one such control freak, which is how I know that real life, therefore, bears no resemblance to that definition and can drive us perfectionists nuts in no time flat.
Real life is a lot more messy.
Oh, sure, we can try to be like the butterflies of life, who can't plan their way to the end of a sentence and who bump along in life, reacting to each event on a case-by-case basis and looking surprised by each one, never learning a lesson well enough to do things differently next time. But you might as well ask a perfectionist to fly to the moon as live like that. We would explode into thousands of tiny pieces at such a disturbance in the Force.
Detail-oriented perfectionists memorize things that no one else would, which is why I still remember my "being" verbs from 5th grade. In order. We get caught up in habits, because once we've perfected something's efficiency, why change it? We keep receipts and actually read them so that we can correct salespeople, and we drive our kids up the wall with Learning Opportunities ("Now, sweetie, which of these dish detergents gives you the best value for the price?" "Mom, we came in here for bananas, can we go now?"). We're the ones who straighten pictures on a wall, parallel-park fourteen times until it's "just right", and read back over a test to see what we've gotten wrong, even though we made a 98. If we weren't right so often, we'd be locked away in a looney bin, and the reason we know we're right is because WE KEEP OUR RECEIPTS TO PROVE IT.
So when I began my fitness journey and was given a crash-course in food diaries and meal planning, I seized the opportunity to chart something, anything, with glee. I made my spreadsheets and sharpened my pencils. I paid attention to my trainers' advice, printed out and read their instructions (even used a highlighter - I'm such a geek), and asked them a million questions. Faithfully, every morning, I worked on my food diary for the day. I learned how to read nutrition labels. If you'll forgive the expression, I was in hog heaven. Since it was summer, I didn't have to deal with my kids' schools, I was out of school for a few months, and work was quiet. I figured out a few simple foods that I liked that were quick and easy to keep on hand, so I didn't have to plan or cook all that much, just reach in the fridge and grab them to satisfy both my hunger and my daily nutrition requirements. I can do this, no sweat, I thought. It doesn't take THAT much planning. I don't have to do as much as they're telling me to do.
Then fall came, and life started coming apart at the seams.
School (1 elementary, 1 high school, 1 college). Band. Work. Holidays. Shorter days but more stuff that had to happen. Suddenly, it was harder to stick to my plans, my routines, my intentions, my schedule. I started getting tired of all those quick and easy foods that I'd been having 7 days a week for the last several months. The weight loss slowed down a little. Sticking to the food diary - even just recording in it - just became a hassle, especially since I was eating all the same things, over and over. All the planning I'd been doing suddenly seemed so exhausting, so cumbersome, but every time I didn't plan, I'd get into trouble. Sooner or later, even the densest Neanderthal will notice a pattern. I remembered snippets of my trainers' words about planning and how important it was, and I realized that huh, you know, maybe they're right...
Detail-oriented perfectionists also have a hard time admitting they're wrong. Just in case you were wondering.
Stage 1: I can do this! I can do this! Just tell me what to do, you got it!
Stage 2: This is hard, but I'm not giving up.
Stage 3: Wow, look how far I've come! It has been so worth it!
Stage 4: SCREW THIS, I WANT SOMETHING ELSE!
So I'd reached Stage 4, which might not have been a problem except for one little thing: I wasn't healthy yet. I was healthIER, but not healthy. Still had a lot of weight to lose. Still have a long ways to go, a really long ways. Time to stop talking and get back to work. Or, in true John-Wayne-fashion, show some True Grit. Life isn't what happens between the speed bumps, it IS the speed bumps. Not learning to deal with it would be the height of stupidity.
Stage 5: I am an idiot. Perhaps I should go back to the basics. Perhaps I should listen more. Perhaps I should plan.
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