We All Need Soothing (Blog #967)

Well crap. All day I’ve been worn the eff out. The last few days I’ve slept more than a bear in hibernation, but I just can’t seem to get my rear in gear. Plus, my hips have been hurting. The weather must be changing. Oh no. Is THIS what it’s like to get older? If so, you can have it. Of course, it beats the alternative (dying). Still, I wonder if it wouldn’t help if I were a SMIDGE less cognizant of my body. That is, as a dancer I’m pretty tuned into every square inch of my physical self, and–I don’t know–maybe I wouldn’t make such a big deal about things getting slightly out of whack if I were one of those less self-aware people who, as my dad says, can’t find their ass with both hands. But just imagine how inconvenient that would be.

Especially when going to the bathroom.

But I digress.

I spent this afternoon doing laundry, first my clothes, then my sheets. That’s right, smart alecks, I’ve now washed my sheets twice this quarter. (Miracles never cease.) Anyway, while the washer and dryer were doing their thing, I started reading a book about the importance of the vagus nerve, the longest nerve (that’s actually two nerves) in your body and the one that’s the most responsible for regulating not only your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems, but also your heart, liver, and lungs. In other words, it’s important. And whereas I haven’t gotten to the part in the book about how to consciously activate your vagus nerve (and thus calm down your body and stimulate healing), I’ve heard before that humming or singing, as well as gentle rocking, help switch your vagus nerve from the “let’s freak out” to the “everything’s gonna be just fine” position. This makes sense to me. Think about how babies respond to humming, singing, and gentle rocking. Well, you and I are no different.

We all need soothing.

This evening I helped a friend update their website. Okay, fine, we technically started over, since their site hasn’t been updated in eight years. And whereas starting over obviously required more work, we had the best time. At least I did. I spent most of my college years engrossed in photography, layout, and design and have spent most of my years since engrossed in writing and communication, so this really was the perfect thing for my friend to ask me to do. I dove right in. That being said, since each website hosting platform is different, much of tonight was a learning curve–how to change font sizes and what not. But hey, I like learning and my friend bought dinner, so Hakuna Matata!

My friend and I worked on their site for–I don’t know–four hours, then I worked on it a few more when I got home. I guess I got hyper-focused on figuring out how to add pictures and link to their social media accounts and couldn’t let it go. (I’m no Elsa.) While I was with my friend I kept futzing around with text alignment–to the left, to the center, to the right. My friend said, “This is why you DON’T want someone who’s OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE designing your website.” I said, “This is why you DO want someone who’s obsessive compulsive designing your site.” Along these lines, my therapist says there are times when my perfectionism serves me. Because it allows me to attend to ALL THE DETAILS when redecorating a room or redesigning a website or whatever. I just need to be able to turn my perfectionism off so I don’t use it against myself. (Like, my nipples aren’t perfect, and all that.)

JUST ENJOY YOUR NIPPLES, MARCUS.

Now, the fact that I stayed up until two tonight working on my friend’s site when 1) I was already tired and 2) there’s not a deadline–I guess–means I haven’t quite figured out how to turn my perfectionism off. At the same time, it may just mean that I got excited about something, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We creatives (that is, all of us) need to get enthused about new projects now and then. My friend and I tonight were brainstorming ideas and ended up laughing, laughing, laughing. This is huge. Not just having fun, but also bringing LIFE to yourself, to others, and to your work.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"You can't change your age, but you can change what your age means to you."

On Perfectionism (Blog #869)

This afternoon I started painting a bathroom at a friend’s house. And whereas I didn’t get one complete coat done, I did come close. Plus, I’m learning to accept less than perfect as okay. Often when I’m editing a piece of writing or choreographing a dance routine, I can tweak forever. Eventually, my eyes cross. I don’t know what’s good and what’s bad. This is, of course, because what’s good, great, or perfect in one person’s eyes is blah or whatever in another’s. Tonight I watched a video on YouTube with two million views. Eight thousand people gave it a thumbs up. Two thousand people gave it a thumbs down.

Who’s right?

Recently I saw someone on a online forum ask, “What’s the difference between a perfectionist and a person who just appreciates excellence?” Well, first off, only a perfectionist would ask this question, a perfectionist who wants to believe they’re not a perfectionist. Who me? Never. I just have high standards. This thinking is insidious. I should know. I’m a perfectionist from way back. That being said, things are getting better. Over the last several years I’ve come to accept, if not embrace, many things in my inner and outer worlds that I previously would have turned my nose up at. Do I still appreciate excellence? You bet your sweet bippy. I can absolutely marvel at a flawless body, a well-decorated room, or prize-worthy writing. But do I NEED everything in my life to conform to my extremely high standards in order to have inner peace?

No.

I didn’t participate in the online conversation I just mentioned, but for me the big difference between a perfectionist and someone who appreciates excellence is the perfectionist will act compulsively and the person who appreciates excellence won’t. That is, a perfectionist MUST have things just so in order to move on or sleep well at night. Earlier I was editing a piece of music, and my perfectionist got hung up because the cut ended on count 7 instead of 8, the end of the measure. Well, I almost threw the whole project out. This is crap, I thought. No one will like it. Because of one beat! When most people don’t even count beats of music–OR CARE. Thankfully, I just got over it. Seven is the number of perfection, I told myself. And it was that simple. I just needed to tell myself a different story. Now I have a piece of edited music I didn’t have before.

At the very least, it’s good enough.

Several years ago I painted and redecorated nearly the entire interior of a friend’s house. Weeks after everything was done, I realized I’d used latex paint on their trim instead of oil-based. Now, this is a common thing to do, but it’s not technically “the best” thing to do because latex doesn’t stick to oil-based paint all that well. It comes off it’s bumped into a lot. Anyway, I called my friend in a panic. “I fucked up,” I said. But my friend wasn’t upset. I guess because THEY aren’t a perfectionist, at least when it comes to their house. “Is everything better than it was when you started?” they said. “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Then I’m happy,” they said.

Contrast this to how uptight Barbra Streisand got when she remodeled her house. (You can read about it in her book she wrote about design.) She absolutely insisted everything be just so. Like, do it over. Is her house beautiful? You bet your sweet bippy. But is she any happier living there than my friend is in their home? I doubt it. Because a perfectionist is never truly satisfied. There’s always SOMETHING to improve. Talk about tiring. So for all recovering perfectionists, I suggest looking at something that would normally drive you crazy–a crooked picture, an unfinished project, a less-than-perfect selfie–and leaving it alone. Go ahead, try it. Find a way to move on with your life. The world won’t fall apart.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It’s okay to ask for help.

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