The OCD process

So, yesterday afternoon, I asked why I would be willing to quilt a quilt three times. And, now I know the answer. Several of the bloggers I follow have been sharing their processes about quilting, so I thought I'd share mine...which has much more to do with my OCD than my quilting.

Work has been very uncomfortable. I've been asked to step outside my normal comfort zone. I've dealt with difficult people and difficult processes and a workload that is overwhelming. The pace has been fast and the meetings have been plentiful. And, there's been school; back to school nite to meet the teachers, the stress of having to dig out the grain of truth from my child's nonsensical stories, my first game in the stands since 1985. And, that has worked my introvert self to a frazel. And, it has upset the apple cart of my compulsion to be perfect...or at least darn close to perfect.

So, when I pulled out that particular quilt to work on this weekend, it was with an overwhelming need to have some perfection, because my last two weeks had been anything but perfect. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with that quilt and it was a good plan and had a high likelihood of near perfection.

Two years ago, I would have taken out my need for something to be perfect on Rob or the kid, the most important people in my life. And, when one of them did something imperfect, like leave a piece of trash on the counter or something else equally trivial, I would have said angry and hurtful things because they weren't perfect and that would have made me feel worse because it showed I was not perfect.

And, the process went around and around; I'm not perfect. But, the therapist has been having us work on the process of handling our emotions instead of the words or actions we use when we're handling them. Now I can shut myself in the sewing room and grumble ugly words under my breath about how imperfect I am and shake my fists at my imperfection. And, that is improvement. I'd much rather quilt for two days and then rip it all out, not because it didn't look great, but because it felt rough and was not perfect.

At some point in the future, I want to change the process again so that I don't need something to be perfect when I'm under heavy stress and outside my normal element. But, for now, I'm going to celebrate the fact that I can lock myself away and deal with my need for perfection instead of expecting those around me to satisfy that need. Because we are many things in my very happy little family, but perfect ain't one of them.

Whew! That felt good. At some point of the morning, when I was still pulling out stitches, I realized all this and acknowledged it and now I'm sharing it. I'm hoping that acknowledging it as part of the process of dealing with my emotional discomfort will help me change the process of dealing with my emotional discomfort. At least that's what the therapist keeps promising. And as much as I keep paying her, I need to believe in her promises. And, it has worked this far.

So, I hope that today I have an imperfect day and that I'm okay with that. Or, that I have a perfect day and I know I'll be okay with that. Or, if I have a really crappy day, I hope I'm okay with that, too. Because these are the days of my life.

and, you know that when I finally get happy with that poor little quilt, it's gonna be darn near perfect. it might not have any backing fabric left, but it will be darn near perfect. and it's better to hope for that than to hope that my kid or my partner or I will ever be perfect. we're so much more fun just the way we are.

Lane