Perfectionism: Does It Exist?

Perfectionism:  Does It Exist?

     I have racked my brain over this subject many times, and I think I suffer from that word:  perfectionism.  I have always strived to be the best in everything I do, and it catches up to me quite a bit.  I look in the mirror every day and question my ability to be the thinnest, look the fittest, and have that look that says I take care of myself physically.  I have always had a problem with my weight (or so I thought) since middle school.  I remember when it was the summer of 1987 and I wore my first bikini to the beach-- Galveston Island.  I shopped that entire summer before the Fourth of July to find the "perfect" bikini.  I can still remember that bikini like it was yesterday:  pink, with black leaves and palm trees.  I had purchased my first bikini at Clothestime, my favorite store from 1986-1993, and I would hold onto this beloved swimsuit until it faded and nearly fell apart my senior year of high school!  I hate to admit this, but I am a perfectionist.  I now realize, though, that you can't get back time.  I am 40 years old, I am obese (but in great physical condition because I exercise four to five times a week), and I have a terrific life, simply because I now choose to live in the moment.

     I am writing this post today because the summer is slowly coming to an end, and I am apprehensive about the start of school.  The main thing I am so thankful for is a new school for Cole, a fresh start and clean slate for not only Cole, but for me as well.  I know I really stirred things up at Merriman Park Elementary last year, simply because I expected and demanded what Cole was entitled to:  a very challenging education, teachers that understood Cole and helped him to be his best, and a school that was free of bullying and bias.  I hate to look back and say, "Oh, I was that parent that caused a lot of problems."  However, I know as a mom and as a teacher, Cole has every opportunity as any kid does in school to be the best he can be.  I have to let go of my anger, move forward, and know that Cole is in good hands at Forest Meadow Junior High.  I get so emotional when I write, simply because I love my son.  Cole has come so far in life, that it just wasn't fair to him to receive a half-ass education last year.  Sixth grade, in my eyes, is a grade that needs to have very effective and responsible teachers, with an administrator leading the way.  I will say it again:  Cole was robbed of his innocence, and I for one, am NOT going to tolerate ineffective administration or teachers this year.  I communicate what I feel, whether it's right or not right in other people's eyes, I am a mom first and I am fierce about being a perfectionist-- especially when it comes to my son's education and his future.  This is why I enjoy being a perfectionist, simply because it causes me to think and react on my feet and not take no for an answer.  I think Katie Kirkpatrick heard my voice loud and clear in Cole's three A.R.D.'s towards the end of the school year, but I pray she doesn't mess up anybody else's potential to have a successful school year at Merriman Park Elementary.  This "Principal" should not have been allowed to continue in administration at Merriman Park Elementary for a second year, simply because she is a lousy Principal who doesn't know special education or gifted law.  I didn't file any complaints to T.E.A., simply because I expect better out of this woman.  However, if I hear of others being neglected because of her ineffective leadership and understanding of how a school should be run, you can believe I will file a complaint with the state.  I lost my trust and faith in Katie Kirkpatrick in October 2013, simply because she did nothing to communicate with me about Cole's bullying and sexual abuse.  She is a coward, a liar, but most of all, the worst type of Principal:  ineffective.  Katie Kirkpatrick was absent from her office, never around to see what was happening at her school, never took the time to say thank you to her amazing teachers, and never returned one email with regards to Cole's bullying.  I had one Principal who I worked for that was the same way, but at least I could leave my job.  Kids and parents can't leave their school (unless they choose to home school, which isn't going to happen), so as a parent, we must stand up to bullies-- even if it's a Principal or an Administrator.

     Perfectionism is a disease.  I suffer from this disease and I always have.  I think there are different types of perfectionism:  a creative type, a "type A" type, an intelligent type, the image conscious type, and a spiritual type.  I would label myself as the creative and image conscious perfectionist.  I have always wanted to be the best singer and always have the perfect body.  As a trained opera singer, one must have the body of goddess, simply because if one doesn't take care of their instrument, the voice suffers.  I have never been the best singer-- always "almost there".  I remember my first audition as a child and I clearly remember at the age of six that I was too pretty to play the youngest Von Trapp daughter, because I didn't have brown hair.  I had to settle for Marta, but I wanted to be the best.  I loved playing Marta in "The Sound of Music", but I wanted to be Gretl, simply because she had the biggest singing part.  I learned then that I had to step up my game to be the best.  I have always loved music, Broadway, and Opera.  I don't really know how to explain this next part, but I will try, simply because this is where I think being a perfectionist is hard to write into any blog.  I longed to be the next "Annie" on Broadway.  I had seen the movie in 1984 and I instantly fell in love with it.  I knew I was going to be the next Aileen Quinn (Annie in the movie), simply because I was a great singer and a pretty good singer.  I had struck gold in the summer of 1984:  Annie was having open auditions at the Dallas Summer Music Hall and I was going to audition!  This one experience changed my life for good and gave me so many incredible opportunities as an adult.  

     I remember singing "Tomorrow" for two straight weeks after my mom had told me about the audition.  I think I pushed my brother over the edge, simply because I was that annoying little sister who never shut up!  I clearly remember getting up every morning at 7 a.m. and putting on my tap shoes, dancing on our little piece of linoleum in the front hallway, and doing this for nearly twelve hours every day.  I couldn't get enough of Annie.  I even made my mom buy me the record album!  Unfortunately, by the time the audition had come, I had HUGE BLISTERS on both feet, making my dancing look awkward.  Honestly, I was shocked when they called my name for a call back.  I thought I had danced like an elephant, trying not to show the pain I was in from my blisters.  From then on, I swore I would never tap dance as hard and long as I had for that one audition!  My singing, according to the counselor at my elementary school (retired opera singer), was very good, but Broadway was a much different venue.  She told me just to sing my heart out and they would love me.  They didn't love me, as I didn't make the final cut of the show.  I was heartbroken.  I took it personally, but I was thankful and grateful for the opportunity it gave me.  I couldn't believe it when they called me at home and left a message on our answering machine that they wanted me.  Unfortunately, we were in Colorado when this happened and they left without me.  The next week, we were headed for Estes Park, Colorado, and I sang all the way there and all the way back.  I can still hear my brother, "Erika, shut up or I am going to throw you out the window".  If Nanny and Granddaddy had not been with us, I really think he would have thrown me out of our Plymouth Volare station wagon in 1984!  I owe my brother a lot-- but especially patience with me.  He put up with my singing until 1992, and I thank him for that.  He is a great big brother, simply because he put up with my singing and my crazy self!  I am forever grateful for those trips that we took with my parents, nanny, and granddaddy.  I don't know if my singing is now tolerable to Shawn, but since we don't live in the same household, I imagine it is bearable to him now.

     I longed to always be on a stage, and I would always sign any type of card, "Erika Kelley.  Someday this autograph is going to be worth a million dollars because I am going to be famous!".  When I was in high school, my perfectionism caught up with me.  I was 15 years old, nearly 16, and I wanted to be bone skinny.  I was on my high school's swim team and I wanted to look like a certain girl, simply because she was a really fast swimmer and had gotten a certain dance part in our musical, "42nd Street".  I don't blame anybody for what I did to my body-- only myself.  I would only eat carrots, celery, ham off my sandwich, and an apple for lunch, because I longed to be that girl who had everything.  I had a boyfriend, but I wouldn't let him see my body, simply because I knew he would tell someone.  I wanted to be that spotlight dancer (hence the perfectionist rears her head here), I wanted to be that next big star on Woodrow Wilson's stage, but I wanted more than that-- I wanted to live in New York and pursue my dream of becoming the next "Annie".  I had seen so many of my friends in high school looking a certain way, so I wanted to look like them too.  I wasn't fat, if you call 5'6" and 120 pounds fat, but I wanted to weigh 100-105 pounds.  Unfortunately, I did manage to get down to 102 pounds.  These days, that doesn't sound so bad, simply because of the image that "stars" portray and live on a daily basis.  However, that being said, I think this is a sick way to live.  I was on a band trip in St. Louis, Missouri, when I started throwing up-- I suffered from bulimia and anorexia.  One of my friends told my band teacher (who I was not a big fan of), that I was sick and needed help.  The reality of passing out at musical practice back home then throwing up in St. Louis made me keenly aware that people were watching me.  I didn't want to admit that I had a problem, but I did.  I knew when I got back home, I needed to do something.  I threw up one last time at school, and three of my closest friends were there when it happened.  I clearly remember not throwing up anything and feeling faint, but I was so dehydrated I couldn't tell anyone.  I am forever grateful to those three friends and one particular mom (my brother's girlfriend's mom) who stayed with me and brought me Jack in the Box eggrolls, simply because I was so hungry and thirsty.  I talked to these friends on a daily basis, and they were the ones that helped me get through this emotional time in my life.  Amanda, Keicee, and Melinda saved my life and I have never told them thank you.  When I stopped throwing up and starving myself, I weighed 102 pounds.  I looked sick and I felt sick, but I was skinny.

     Perfectionism doesn't always serve me well, obviously!  At times, I am thankful for the knowledge on how to take care of myself, but I am also thankful for an incredible support system.  Without unconditional love, I could have headed down a broken and dark road to self-destruction.  Cole is a perfectionist, when it comes to singing, but his God-given gift of looking out for himself is something that simply amazes me.  He has that strong desire that I did to move to New York, become the next Frankie Valli in "Jersey Boys", and to push the button in Times Square on New Year's Eve with Mayor Michael Bloomberg.  Cole practices for hours on end every day, until he thinks he is perfect, then he stops to eat, plays Minecraft, and then resumes his rendition of "Walk Like a Man" until I tell him it's time for bed.  I have always wondered if people that have autism could be perfectionists.  I think my son is a perfectionist, in the creative sense.  I only pray that Cole can achieve what I never could-- okay with being great at home and with his life.  It has taken me forty years to be just "okay" with my life and not being the best at everything.  I wanted to be that star like Aileen Quinn and Sutton Foster.  My time has come and gone (or so I think), but my son is destined for great things.  He truly could be the next Frankie Valli in "Jersey Boys" because he is that good.  Sometimes, I just have to relax, say thank you God for all of the blessings you have bestowed to me and my family, and know that I am a great wife, mom, daughter, and friend.  I am thankful for friendships that span over thirty years, but I am also beyond thankful for having the most amazing family and husband God could have ever given me.  I am one blessed perfectionist!