Last week, my girlfriend and I decorated a poster, and I watched in shock and horror while she quietly filled in block letters that read “GO!”. Whenever I create something, it must be done section by section, each part perfectly aligned before I move on. When my girlfriend colors, she does so in long, uneven strokes that leave gaps of white paper unattended. It’s wild, outrageous, and not at all following the Rules of Coloring (that I personally made up). While I was watching her, it bothered me so much that she didn’t even seem to care about her technique. The more she worked the more anxious I became, even though it was clear that she was just having a nice time. The audacity!
Before I had the chance to correct her, I watched her go back and delicately fill in all the empty spaces, one by one, and I released the tension I had been holding. Even though that last part left me satisfied enough to finish my half of the poster in peace, I woke up the next morning still thinking about her process and the way that it affected me.
How can she not care if one section looks just right before moving on? How can her skin not crawl at the idea that there are so many blank spaces? How can she breathe easily, knowing that everything isn’t filled out right now?
I have realized over the past few years that I am a recovering perfectionist. Well… I guess I’m not recovering. Clearly, I’m still in the throes of it. Since my cross-country move, there have been so many questions circling my brain, so many chances for my anxiety and OCD to run rampant, and even the smallest tasks have to be done expertly to avoid more upset. I know from experience how debilitating anxiety disorders can be, but in some ways, I thought I was past all of this. I worked for years to build a pretty toolbox of skills and mindfulness and healthy coping mechanisms that put me in a fantastic place. I even told someone last summer, when I was publishing articles regularly, training for a half marathon, volunteering for a podcast, and working a full-time job, that I was thriving. But now, during a time when I should relish in the gorgeous California weather, sit on the beach reading a book, hike through redwood forests – I’m metaphorically chained to my couch, thinking of every small and large regret I’ve collected throughout my short life.
Since arriving to the west coast, I’ve accepted my dream travel nursing position – however, the start date was pushed back to mid-April. This means that I have nothing urgent to do and nowhere in particularly important to go until then. It’s just an entire month to do whatever I want. To any rational person, this would be a dream come true - but endless time to sit quietly with my thoughts is my own version of hell. Without structure, without endless scheduled tasks, without a job that physically, emotionally, and spiritually drains the life out of me – who am I? What the hell am I supposed to do? Enjoy myself??
Often, I feel the need to have it all figured out right now to ensure that I’m safe and happy in the future. Sometimes I think, if I can just sort through everything in the present, maybe I’ll be more prepared for the future. If I feel the fear or pain now, I’ll be able to handle it better when it eventually happens. If I cover up all the blank spaces I can come across, maybe I’ll move forward feeling more whole.
But life doesn’t work that way. I can try to prepare for everything, and the unthinkable can still happen. I can’t treat my life like I treat the block letters on the poster we colored on that beautiful yet stressful evening. Even though I’ve sworn by my method of coloring in the lines, my girlfriend proved that you can still begin, and continue, even if there is no certainty about the outcome. It’s not a failure to realize that I too am an ever-changing work in progress.
There are going to be moments of emptiness, confusion, and uncertainty in my life that can’t be solved immediately. And despite all of this, I am allowed to move forward, even if there are visible blank spaces. Maybe after all of this hard work and stress, I’ll reach the most unexpected outcome of them all – that everything will be okay.
The Rules of Coloring
"I release the need to control outcomes." I worked on this for a few years. 💞
be gentle on yourself, the next sequence of tasks for which to marshal resources and will, will come when it needs to; you have nothing to prove to anyone