Glimpses of Sanity

Sometimes the mind meanders and we are given a glimpse of the gifts in our struggles. This was the path my wild and wooly mind took one day this week.

I see ads for several on-line workshops all using the phrase “ideal life.” (As in, ‘Create Your Ideal Life’ and ‘Learn to Live Your Ideal Life.’) I wince, even as I consider what my “ideal life” might look like. I am disturbingly un-inspired, perhaps too aware (as a recovering perfectionist) that the ideal is often the enemy of the real, is what encourages us to pick at what is good until it lies in tatters.

Makes me think of a term coined by psychologist DW Winnicott: “the good enough parent.” Winnicott came up with this to reassure conscientious parents that they did not need to be “perfect” to ensure their child had a sense of being loved and cared for and welcomed into life.

When I was a child my mother’s response to the phrase “good enough” coming from my brother or I in response to any inquiry about a job she’d told us to do was, “Go back and do it the right!” For her, “good enough” was equivalent to “slap-happy” and sub-standard.

A memory from twenty-five years ago arises: I am talking to my mother on the phone, telling her that I’ve been diagnosed by yet another doctor as having Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/ Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. I’m thirty-three years old and have two small sons. I also have a broken leg (in a cast from knee to toe) and a fever from a case of pneumonia I just can’t shake. My mother tells me the CFS/ME diagnosis is “ridiculous.” She knows what’s wrong with me- I just don’t want to care for my home properly, have "always tried to get out of domestic chores.” She tells me to “get at it,” is clear that my house-keeping is "not good enough- not by a long shot!” (Later I wonder and consider that my mother may really believe that pushing me to clean my house will render me completely healthy and filled with vitality. Sadly, I've already tried the Housekeeper of The Year remedy and ended up in bed for weeks.)

My mind flashes forward twenty years. Despite a great deal of therapy, shamanic ceremony, meditation and other healing work I still warn my then-husband that the week before my parents’ visit to our home I will be (in my words) “a crazy woman.” I give up resisting the urge to make the house perfect (and consequently feel like I am cheating on the therapist I have not seen in a few years.) I know better. Knowing better doesn’t help. I wash windows, clean closets, wax floors, weed the garden and do paint touch-ups on the corners of baseboards and kitchen cupboards. (I include this last detail just so we are all clear that I had crossed the line between meticulous preparation and runaway neurosis.) The scent of fresh baked bread fills the house. The kitchen sink gleams.

My mother arrives. I watch her examine the house as she talks about the weather. I hold my breath. 

And then it happens. For the first, last and only time my mother says, “Your house looks nice.” 

I reply, “Thank you." 

As I serve dinner I start laughing. My husband asks me what's funny. I just shake my head. I cannot explain. I have spent a week of my life, (although more accurately, years) exhausted myself and plagued my husband for, “Your house is nice." Seeing how crazy and silly this is, the inner door to freedom opens a crack.

And this small insight brings a great gift: compassion arises effortlessly when I am with friends or clients who are mercilessly driving themselves to attain someone else's standards in the hope of being seen, acknowledged and loved. I understand how we sometimes get hooked by values we don't share. I feel no judgement about not being able to instantly break free. I tell them what we all know on some level, what I also need to hear and remember: we can't earn love; we are loveable and we belong by virtue of being.

My ideal life? To recognize, receive, enjoy and appreciate what is truly good enough. Good enough for fullness of life, for being able to do what is needed and enjoy the moments we have; good enough for love toward self and others to flow with ease.

I fantasize about new workshop titles: 'Learn To Live Your Good Enough Life Fully,’ or perhaps, 'Learn to Live Your Good Enough Life To The Best Of Your Ability.' Or how about, 'Savour What Is Good Enough Now!'

Oriah (c) 2013