Thoughts on Perfectionism and Ambition

As most of you know, I recently spent a couple of months in a treatment center for eating disorders. Treatment was grueling and being away from my husband and child was very difficult. It’s true that sometimes even the treatment itself can be considered traumatic. My emotions have been a rollercoaster since discharge. I go back and forth from feeling relieved that I am now physically healthy to feeling absolute disbelief that I went through treatment at all. Treatment didn’t necessarily leave me sad but I’m not exactly happy either. This whole experience has forced me to do a lot of “soul searching”. Sometimes it’s hard to describe what I’m feeling. My thoughts and emotions can be complicated right now. I’m safe and working with an outpatient team, but sometimes I don’t know what to do other than write about it. So if my posts seem a little emotional or disconnected lately, that’s why.

A Few Questions

Do you wonder if your best will ever be good enough? Not just to your friends, colleagues, and family, but also to yourself? Like most people with an eating disorder, I struggle with perfectionism, but I don’t always think it’s wrong. I like being picky and my anxiety makes me prompt, well-prepared, and organized in almost every aspect of my life. The problem is that it will never be good enough. Perfection is unattainable. Is it a waste of time to try to make things perfect or should you accept people and things just as they are?

Is it best to always want more or to settle with what you have? I’m ambitious and I can never settle for how things are. I always want more. Is that bad? Maybe sometimes it’s good. I think I would be a happier person if I could settle with what I have, but that seems to go against my very being. I’ve always been this way. I think it’s possible to do bigger and better, so shouldn’t I want that?

Leaning On My Better Half

My husband is a very relaxed person. Although I know he feels deeply, he’s also the most stable person I know. He helps me with these questions and I appreciate his feedback. 

I’ve always been uptight, intense, picky, and ambitious, and while I think I would be happier if I wasn’t, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. I think I just need to learn to turn it back a couple of notches. 

 

So how do you feel about this? Are you a perfectionist? Are you good enough for your friends, family, and yourself? Do you settle with what you have or do you always want more?

A Poem from My Book, The Housewife Who Ruled a Kingdom

I have been working for a while on my second poetry book, The Housewife Who Ruled a Kingdom, and I would like to share a poem with you. I consider the book erotic although it is more about the housewife than the sex. The housewife is torn between her loving and devoted husband and a sexy stranger she’s obsessed with. 

 

His Name

My sexy stranger
has a name
but I don’t dare
speak it.

He’s a real person
but my fantasy
is far from his reality —
a world created in my mind.

All I have is a picture
and an imagination.
I’ve made him into
a man that doesn’t exist.

My loving husband —
faithful and kind —
he’s all that I need
so why do I want more?

Lustful, sinful,
invading my restless mind —
I strip this stranger bare
but we’ll never meet.

Guilt and shame
come entangled
with my thoughts.
Why is my focus divided?

This stranger is
hundreds of miles away
but in my mind
there’s no such thing as distance.

My faraway lover
consumes me
stealing my time, productivity —
my life is distracted.

I’m guilty
of diverting my attention
from my family, my world —
a world this stranger will never be a part of.

A harmless seduction?
A fantasy of the forbidden —
is that why
I like it so much?

A private encounter
that will never happen —
a secret
I will never spill.

I love my husband —
my partner, protector, provider —
so why
do my thoughts betray him?

It’s a terrible affliction —
a tale of two men —
both give me
warmth and poetry.

I’m torn between fantasy and reality
but my sexy stranger
will never know.
I don’t dare speak his name.

Just a thought – what would it be like if I were religious?

Despite being raised in rural Ohio, I’ve never been very religious, and quite frankly, it’s a little disturbing to imagine what I would be like if I were.

My World in a Nutshell

I have always been a really intense person. My feelings run deep and my passion is fiery. I’m one of those emotional creative types with too much ambition and a mind that takes me to dark places. I also have some serious mental health issues that only fan the flames.

I question my reality a lot – did this really happen the way I think it did? Rational thought meets overwhelming emotions. Oftentimes my world differs from the real world. The atheist in me looks for simple answers – the ones the evidence actually points to – but my mentally ill brain tends to complicate everything. I know my feelings and experiences are valid but sometimes I overthink and under analyze. 

A Disturbing Thought

Knowing all this, could you imagine what I would be like if I were religious? Holy shit! My complicated brain would become a raging dumpster fire. I can’t even imagine how far I would take it. When I find something I’m interested in, I give it my all.

I’m not a very social person but regardless, I know how to use my voice. Art and writing mean everything to me and I’m sure I would use them to spread the word.

But what would that do in my personal life? How would that affect my daughter?

I’m not going to lie – this is a really weird and frightening thing to think about.

I have a schizophrenic disorder and I’ve seen many people with similar diagnoses become religious fanatics. Thankfully I’m stable on medication and haven’t gone down that road.

A Secular Life to the Rescue

I’ve often thought that atheism has contributed to the shreds of sanity I cling to. I couldn’t imagine if that were gone. 

I decided long ago that I would use my relentless drive for good instead of evil. Despite my head being in the clouds most of the time, I really do value common sense. My mental illness tends to muddy up my life but atheism has brought me some longed-for and much-needed clarity.

 

What would you be like if you were religious? Or perhaps you were religious in the past — what were you like? Were you ever a fanatic?

“Girl Mom” – Sharing a Poem from My Book, Free to Roam

I haven’t done this in a while…here’s a poem from my book, Free to Roam: Poems from a Heathen Mommy, published last year by Freethought House.

Girl Mom 

How do I protect my daughter
from having the stories all women have,
from fearing the night
and walking alone? 

How do I protect my daughter
when rapists run for president,
when boys will be boys,
when an accusation is too frequently overlooked? 

How do I protect my daughter
when she doesn’t have a say
when her body is property
and legislation dictates her future? 

How do I protect my daughter
from seventy-eight cents to the dollar
from taxes that come in pink
from old and rotten expectations? 

How do I protect my daughter
from the shards of glass
when she destroys the glass ceiling
and leads the way in a man’s world? 

How do I support my daughter
when she no longer needs my protection?

 

My poetry book gives an atheist perspective on being a Midwest Mom. It is for sale on my publisher’s site freethoughthouse.com, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon. (Signed copies are available at freethoughthouse.com.)

Writing from pain – is it worth it?

I wrote a lot while I was in treatment for my eating disorder. I mean A LOT. I continue to write about my recovery and life after discharge.

I have a series of journals from this experience. Eight of them to be exact. Journal #1 is the month leading up to my admission. Journals #2-#6 were written while I was at the treatment center, and #7 and #8 were written after discharge while working with my outpatient team. 

Writing is an outlet for me. If I have to go through it, I’m probably going to write about it. Nobody likes to be in pain but that’s when I seem to be the most inspired. You would think it would be the opposite. As much as it sucks, a little drama seems to make my story more interesting. I’m proud of the things I write, I just wish my best work didn’t come from suffering.

Pain may be inspiring but is it unnecessarily prolonged when I decide to write about it? 

I intend to make a project out of my journals – possibly another memoir. My journals are honest and raw and when I finally decide to show them to the world, I think people might find them interesting. 

I just hope I don’t relapse in the process. I’m going to give it everything I’ve got.

I’ve always written from real life but maybe after this, it’s time to try a little fiction.

How do you deal with judgmental people?

I hate being judged even though I notice myself judging others sometimes. I’m trying to work on that.

In treatment, I worked on judgments about food and weight but I know it goes deeper than that. My family is made up of traditional Midwest WASPs although we used to be sprinkled with a few Catholics. Passive-aggressive judgments seem to be the name of the game where I’m from. I don’t think it’s just my family – it’s probably most families around here. 

I think moms are especially guilty of this. My daughter is a little night owl and sometimes it’s very difficult to get her to go to bed at a decent time. Another mom in my family has told me that her kids used to be in bed at 7:30 every night. EVERY night. She’s told me this about ten times.

Thanks for that. 

Which is more difficult to deal with – a judgment from a stranger or a judgment from a family member? I seem to forget about comments from strangers faster. When a family member says something to me, I tend to ruminate. Although I sometimes wonder if comments from strangers are more honest even though most of the time they’re meaningless. If a loved one judges you, is there an underlying motive? Is there a reason they want to hurt you?

One of my grandmas was particularly judgemental – racist and sexist even. As I got older, I learned more about her life. She got married pretty young because she was pregnant. While it doesn’t forgive her behavior, it seems to make a little more sense now. Her judgments only revealed how unhappy she was herself.

So now I question myself when I start noticing judgments stewing in my head. Is there something I’m unhappy about? Does this judgment really matter? What does this say about me?

While I work on myself, that doesn’t stop others from making judgments about me.

 

How do you deal with judgmental people?

Are you afraid of death?

Are you afraid of death?

I’m not going to lie – I am a little bit.

It has absolutely nothing to do with an afterlife. The idea of heaven and hell is pretty ridiculous. I mean, where are these mythical places supposed to be? Wouldn’t we have found them by now? 

One thing that really bothers me when I think of death is that you usually don’t know when you’re going to die. I don’t do well with uncertainty. 

What scares me the most is that maybe I won’t be able to do all the things I want to do. I want to spend time with my family. I want to see my daughter grow up. I want to pursue the things I’m passionate about such as art and writing. I’m an ambitious person and I want to do all of these things but there’s just no guarantee. 

Common sense tells me that nothing happens after you die but sometimes I wonder what it must feel like to die. It’s not like someone is going to come back from the dead and explain it to me. It’s just another unknown. 

I know this all means that I need to make the most of my time. Express love. Pursue passions. Explore. Learn everything I can. 

My daughter really hasn’t asked many questions about death, but when she does I plan on telling her that we return to the earth – something we’ve always been a part of anyway. 

Who else thinks about death? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

 

Now that I’ve discussed a morbid and depressing topic, I’m going to end with something happy. My sweet little Sasha had five kittens on Cinco de Mayo. Here is one of their adorable little faces.

Sasha's little kitten

Speaking Out Against Stereotypes

Do we need to change the public’s perception of atheists?

I really don’t fit the stereotype of atheists. I’m sensitive, and creative, and I’m actually not that great at science. I’m not highly educated – I didn’t even finish my bachelor’s degree. I’m a Midwest mom who mostly stays at home. My friends and family would probably describe me as sweet and quiet. I’m hardly what you would call “militant” – I’m always trying to avoid conflict. 

Have people ever assumed that you must be a Christian because you’re nice? Where I live being a Christian seems to automatically make you a good person. 

I’m not going to lie, when people assume I’m a Christian, sometimes I just go with it out of safety concerns. Sometimes I just don’t want things to be awkward (even though they already are for me). 

But other times, I feel like I need to speak out – especially since I don’t fit the stereotype. Sometimes I really surprise people and it can be a good thing. 

Obviously, anyone can be an atheist.

Do you fit the stereotypes put on atheists? Do you feel a need to speak out against them?

Wishes for My Daughter’s Future

A Mother’s Wishes for Her Daughter

  1. I wish you love yourself as much as you love others. 
  2. I wish you take risks. 
  3. I wish you try new things.
  4. I wish you respect the planet more than the generations before you.
  5. I wish you are kind to others even though the world is cruel.
  6. I wish you have control over your own body.
  7. I wish you eat and not feel guilty about it.
  8. I wish you always know you’re beautiful and that beauty is more than your appearance. 
  9. I wish you find love.
  10. I wish you find passion.
  11. I wish you realize all emotions are valid and often expose your needs.
  12. I wish you see others’ voices as important as your own.
  13. I wish you follow your own path.
  14. I wish you find strength in any pain you experience.
  15. I wish you find success in whatever way you define it.
  16. I wish you always stay informed.
  17. I wish you always vote.
  18. I wish you never lose your love for books.
  19. I wish you accept your flaws and be realistic about the things you want to change.
  20. I wish you’re healthy – mentally and physically.
  21. I wish you’re happy and that you find happiness in your own way.
  22. I wish you get to travel.
  23. I wish you listen to your mind and body and give them what they need.
  24. I wish you are gentle with yourself.
  25. I wish you learn from our family’s story.
  26. I wish your thirst for knowledge never stops and that you learn as much as you can.
  27. I wish when you see others struggling you lift them up.
  28. I wish you realize that all people have more in common than not.
  29. I wish you always see others’ experiences as valid.
  30. I wish you always know I love you.

 

What would you add to the list?

Recovery and Acceptance for the Black Sheep

I’ve always felt different from the rest of my family – the so-called “black sheep” – not just because of my mental illness but also my intense personality. I’m passionate and ambitious – obsessive even. I’ve always stuck out and I’m hard to relate to.

While I long for acceptance, it would also kill me to be considered “normal”.

The things that make me crazy also make me a writer.

I’ve been feeling really misunderstood lately. I recently realized that after two decades of recovery, two rounds at treatment centers, and hundreds of conversations around the kitchen table, my family actually knows very little about eating disorders.

I’m hurt – and confused. How is this even possible?

I’ve always been an open book. I have freely shared my story with all of my loved ones, but now I don’t feel as comfortable.

On the one hand, do I continue to share hoping one day they will understand, or on the other hand, do I keep quiet to spare myself heartache and judgment? Which has my recovery’s best interest in mind?

I should add, that my husband is the exception. He always knows what to say and do, and I really don’t know how he does it. He is the one keeping me grounded while still allowing me to live my dreams. I would be very lost and very lonely without him.

This latest round of treatment was very intense – maybe even a little traumatic – and since discharge, my emotions have been an absolute rollercoaster ride.

If you have advice, I’m open to it, but really putting my words out into the universe is therapeutic in itself.

I’m different, and most of the time I’m okay with that, but who doesn’t want acceptance from their loved ones?