Perfectionist Rehab

I subscribe to the idea that everything in life has meaning.

I often find myself searching for the lessons in situations. The morals to the story. The punchline.

This belief has gifted me with peace. It has also yoked me to suffering.

I had one of the worst days of my life when I was eighteen years old. I was enrolled in my undergraduate degree program, and I had just had a meeting with my student advisor.

I was in academic probation.

My advisor and I devised a corrective action plan.

“If you don’t turn your grades around, you will fail out of college.”

I’m a perfectionist. I had straight-As all throughout high school. However, my transition into college was far from ordinary.

I was homeless upon enrollment.

My relationship with my foster family had always been contentious. As soon as I was out of the house, my foster mother made it clear that I was never going to return.

Depression cloaked me like a weighted blanket.

For the first time in my life, I was living away from my abusers. What I didn’t know then is that there is an immediate side effect once you are freed from turbulence.

Severe exhaustion.

I could barely stay awake. I slept as often as I could. I dragged myself from bed whenever I could – but I missed far more classes than I attended.

I learned years later that this is common. When you finally escape traumatic environments, your nervous system relaxes. Your body finally comes to terms with the energy it expends to keep you safe.

Hypervigilance is like amphetamines. It keeps you awake. Alert. Jumpy. Paranoid.

Once your body recognizes it’s safe, you enter ‘rest and digest’ parasympathetic responses. I had spent eighteen years in constant hypervigilance.

Of course I was tired.

I neglected my friendships. Shirked responsibilities. Ate my feelings. Gained fifty pounds. Alienated myself so thoroughly that it was impossible to create new bonds.

It was December. We were wrapping up that first semester, and finals were imminent. My advisor brought me into her office to impress upon me the severity of my situation.

I was defeated.

How could I have gotten onto academic probation? I was only able to attend college through a scholarship. The scholarship I received was highly competitive, and it was only awarded to wards of the state who excelled academically.

It was an honor and a privilege to receive it.

And here I was, forced to recognize how terrible I was handling my first real whack at independence.

On my walk back to my dorm, it started snowing. Light, fluffy, huge snowflakes floated around me. A particularly large snowflake landed on my nose. It stayed there for a moment, as if the snow wanted to make sure I noticed it. Then, it collapsed into a large drop of water that immediately rolled onto my lip.

The droplet tickled me as it fell. Giggles erupted from deep within my belly, and I felt reassured. Comforted.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

Some people might not romanticize snowfall, but I do. The best things in my life happened when it snowed.

1. The day my social worker took me from my parent’s house
2. The day I was awarded a college scholarship
3. The day that I turned my college career around
4. When I met my husband
5. Our wedding day
6. Both days my children were born

I had a particularly difficult week at work. My professional life is evolving, and I’m not sure for the better. Everything is more scrutinized. Perfection is demanded, expected, and required. My personal life is a ticking time bomb, waiting to implode itself.

Earlier tonight, I was worrying on my back porch while my dog relieved herself. The little voice inside my head whispered to me.

Pay attention.

The air was still. Silent. Like the atmosphere was holding its breath.

Light, airy, and fluffy puffs of snow began to fall around me.

I was filled with a sense of peace. Calm. Conviction. Gratitude.

Everything is going to be fine.