Claiming Progress versus Perfection

Perfectionism is such a part of me that I need to understand when it’s in the lead and then take actions to shift into the more sustainable path of claiming spiritual progress. So I came up with this set of criteria that tell me whether or not I’m living in the path of progress or seeking an impossible state of perfection.

Movement or Stalled Out

Progress feels like momentum.  I feel a sense of possibility, accomplishment perhaps, and even a sense that all is well. I’m eager for the day and look for evidence of progress.  When I’m living with a mindset of perfection, however, I have little momentum because my attention is on the gap between where I am currently and where I want to be. That gap can feel insurmountable and it’s pretty discouraging, thus little sense of momentum.

Humility or Humiliation

When I claim spiritual progress, ironically I’m not in my ego at all, but pretty humble about how anything got accomplished in the first place. I’ve had a part but it’s not all up to me. When I live in a perfectionistic mind frame, I’m often humiliated because I haven’t arrived at where I think I should be, or I’m boastful that I can do this why can’t you and thus judging others. There’s a heap of comparison that comes with perfection and often I’m humiliated because I haven’t measured up to I perceive are your accomplishments.

Hope or Despair

Hope accompanies spiritual progress because I’ve taken the time to see even subtle shifts and movement and therefore know change is possible, if incremental. When I’m looking through a lens of perfection, though, I feel despair that I’ll ever arrive and shortly after that I’m in self-pity, looking for a consolation prize of some sort. Despair is not a sustainable path in recovery.

Creative Solution or Forced Fix

What happens during a problem when I’m in the progress frame of mind is that a solution appears almost at once. It’s usually a pretty creative solution and I get a hit of energy just watching it appear. I’m excited to try it and delighted at how quickly challenges can be resolved. But when I’m in the perfectionist zone, then a problem needs a precise and difficult solution, something beyond what is available in the moment. I become paralyzed with the notion that I’ve got to solve this thing, don’t avail myself of others’ ideas or inspiration from the divine, and feel desperate to fix things myself. It leads to overwhelm.

Humor or Hiding

When I make a mistake and I’m used to claiming spiritual progress, I can laugh at myself, see it as a lesson, and sometimes shape it into a teaching for others. I write blogs about these mistakes and am eager to continue to learn. But when I’m in a perfectionist patch, which I’ve been in for a while, mistakes feel deadly and something I want to hide from others or blame on something or someone. It’s lonely making mistakes when I’m supposed to be perfect, and they tend to make me want to isolate even more.

To Serve or to Wait

Finally, when I’m in the vibe of spiritual progress, I’m eager to be of service. My life and my ideas are useful and I share easily at meetings, delight in others’ stories, listen and speak only when I have something necessary to say. When I’m in perfectionist zone, I either talk too much to demonstrate to others how spot-on my recovery is or I get very quiet and want to only serve when things get all perfected. I don’t write much because it’s not good enough, wise enough, or relevant for others. I tend to take the temperature of a room before speaking and second guess my impulse to share.

These are states of being I’ve noticed that can help me discern where I am at any given moment. The answer will affect what I do next, what I pray for, and how I ask for help from others.

Just Pray

I've been struggling with food issues, again, despite having all kinds of knowledge, accumulated wisdom, and support from lovely people and skilled experts. In reading Mary Oliver’s “Morning Poem,” it occurred to me I’m not asking for divine help. I’m not really praying but just sort of going through the motions.

Here’s the line that captured and opened my heart: “each pond with its blazing lilies/is a prayer heard and answered/lavishly.” The idea that prayers are heard and answered lavishly reminds me that relying on myself to muscle my way through an addiction can never work.  When I first got sober, my prayers were desperate, heartfelt, and almost constant.  That worked to get me from one difficult moment to the next until I could go to bed early and make this “one day at a time” thing work.  My addiction to sugar is longer, stronger, and more pernicious than anything I experienced with alcohol, and I need stronger spiritual muscles to get through the cravings and obsessive thoughts. Prayer builds the bridge to a new life of freedom.

Clearing the Channel

If I don’t ask, I can’t set in motion the answer, the new creation. Once I ask, a channel opens up. And it flows to me lavishly beyond what I can imagine. Source grants my deepest hope and beyond. I don’t need to know how or expect an answer by when because that slows it down and introduces resistance. All I have to do is pray rather than reach for the old comfort. Each moment I ask for help is the dawn of a new morning; the world is created anew in the asking.

Listening to the Real Need

When I can believe or act as if help is available if I only ask/pray, I will never be without exactly what I need. And as I realize that what I need is never sugar, flour, alcohol or a new item, then I move toward a deeper, truer listening, to the wounded child who was not heard, who couldn’t articulate what she needed and soon silenced the fact that she needed anything as she reached for a cookie or something nearby to soothe.

 I want to give her attention, compassion, and kindness. I’m learning to be gentle with her and never give her something to shut her up, so she soon learns to trust me and let me hold and comfort her. And that feeling of peace, I’m coming to see, is all I’ve ever wanted.