Elements of Perfectionism - Dissatisfaction + Busy-ness

Never seems satisfied

This isn't entirely true.  There are times when I am very happy and satisfied.  As I have stated previously in this blog, there are times when I feel I have achieved that feeling of: This is right.  This is perfect.  I don't want to change a thing.

I especially have that feeling when I am in nature.  In fact, sometimes things are beyond perfect.

I also have that feeling sometimes in art galleries, with some forms of architecture, with food, music, a poem.  There are times and places where I am satisfied.

However, I know the tendency for me to notice things and get irritated by them is high.  This is partly due to my extra nerve endings, sensitivities to my environment, both physical and aesthetic.

But I question myself: How often is my dissatisfaction due to something I can't change; can't control?  How much am I setting myself up for grief by this semi-conscious "need" for perfection?  The continuous seeking for perfection.  For places and situations that "feel right"?

Why am I this way? Can I stop doing this?  Wouldn't life be much better if I could stop unconsciously seeking perfection or expecting it somehow?

Constant busy-ness

This describes me especially, when I was younger.  I often over-booked myself.  I had to be multi-tasking and packing in as many things as I could possibly do in a day.  I worked myself to a frazzle.

I enjoyed some sort of crazy satisfaction through achieving so much in a day.

Work came first.  In fact, I had no balance.  I didn't take breaks.  I didn't know how to play (and still don't).  Relationships meant little to me. 

Not to blame my poor mother; but I think her example to me as a child has considerable weight in how and why I valued work more than people.  That was her example from the grandmother who raised her.  Perhaps that was how it was with that entire generation.  Work, money, survival was more important that taking time to love or be with others.  They had too many children, too many responsibilities.  No money or leisure.  And men they couldn't count on.

I've tried to learn to stop overloading myself, to slow down, because I can't do it.  I keep having breakdowns.  I get overwhelmed and can't manage.

But I have to admit, I have a sense of guilt and futility, uselessness, because I can't keep up the pace.  Because I do breakdown.

I have to consider this self-generated pursuit of perfection has contributed to the never-ending busy-ness and a lower, less life-affirming degree of satisfaction.

To be continued...