Perfectionism Is Poison

A fudge cake

Image via Wikipedia

The cake fell flat.

The cat puked.

Ants have migrated to the kitchen.

The flower bed is…well, a mess.

I didn’t get enough rest last night.

I need a haircut.

The kids didn’t finish their school work.

I didn’t read my devotional today.

That thing that happened really annoyed me.

My nerves are frayed.

And I’m still waiting for my 21 year old body to return…any day now.

I hear the hiss in my ear.

I want the perfect life. I strive for the perfect life.

I fail at the perfect life. Big sigh.

I gripe at times. I hold onto resentment. I long for more.

I play out in my own mind what I think should happen. How life should be.

Perfectionism is the poisonous venom of a serpent.

I’ve been bit, and it stings.The wound is raw… and painful.

The realization hits me. Again. This life will never be perfect.

And yet, I still search.

What is wrong with me? I wish I could just let it go. Be happy with the way things are.

Wouldn’t life be easier if I didn’t care about pet fur, and folding laundry? If everyone would follow the schedule, and pick up after themselves? If I had a new vehicle and a snappy wardrobe? If I looked like I did when I was younger and had more energy?

Each day I do battle with perfectionism.

The fangs sink deeper into my flesh.

I need to break free from the bondage of perfectionism. It really is bondage, pure and simple.

The fear of not being perfect, is really the fear of not measuring up to (impossible) standards.

God did not give me the the spirit of fear. His desire is not for me to be a frustrated perfectionist.

“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.”  2 Timothy 1:7  NIV

He loves me. Imperfections and all.


Keeping it real, in our jam about perfectionism. Won’t you join us?