Perfectly So
The other night, after Steady Eddie made out my bills once again, I had a fit.
I remembered how, before I came down with chronic fatigue syndrome, I was independent. I had a good (but not great) job, a sports car, and money to burn. I didn't know what to do with the money I made, and I was pretty miserable emotionally (for alot of reasons), so I spent alot of my money on clothes and music--the things that made me happy. Even after I married, I made more money than my husband, which enabled us to take a cross-country road trip and to live not lavishly but rather spend-thrifty....
Then I realized that, between the physical illness and the emotional troubles of an abusive family and a bad marriage, I spent a great deal of money on therapy trying to fix it all up....
When what I really needed to do was move away from everyone and start my life over....
So I questioned myself as to why I spent all that money on therapy....
And then it hit me...
I am a perfectionist. Clear and simple. I spent all that money on therapy because I wanted my marriage to be perfect. We were, among our friends, The Perfect Couple--on the outside anyway. And, given there was no admission by my then-husband that marriage is a a two way street, I took the responsibility of perfection on myself. The only way to perfect me, since my body had gone on the fritz with chronic fatigue, was to perfect my emotional state so that I could live with him.
As I said, I should have just up'ed and left. But I didn't want to be a two-time loser stuck at home with a debilitating illness and an unsupportive family....so I went to lots and lots of therapy in an attempt to keep myself married.
But I also realized that I was trying to perfect myself for Mr. Perfect even before my second marriage,that I was working like a dog to try to perfect every aspect of my relationships now....
And, that I was not only making myself nuts over it, but I was neglecting my financial independence in some quest to create The Perfect Relationship.
I had no clue how my desperate desires to have the Perfect Relationship, and the subsequent Perfect Marriage, was causing me to neglect, even forget about, the importance of being economically independent. For some strange reason I thought if I found Mr. Perfect, and the marriage was perfected, where all our needs from the past and the present and into the future would be perfectly met, then I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not I'd be living in a cardboard box in retirement.
To paraphrase Malcom Gladwell, author of Blink and The Tipping Point , how can one be an expert at something they know very little about or have no experience with? I was trying, for the longest time, to be an expert with marriage, when I had no experience nor idea of what a good marriage should look like.
Nowdays, my Father freely and openly admits that he never loved my Mother--that they had something of a business partnership and took care of each other, but they were never really in love with each other.
Becasue I'm an astute observer, and had spent time with people who truly are in love with each other, I knew this before he ever admitted it to me or to himself.
When I realized all the time, energy and effort I put into trying to attain something that, in my life, might be truly unattainable because I have no parameters or paradigms to help me understand how to create it, I got a bit angry and a bit depressed.
Even though there are tons of self-help books out there that purport to have all the answers for creating the perfect relationship, the fact of the matter is that we are all fallable, imperfect, human beings, and no amount of rule or formula or life-planning can pefect a human being. We are far too complex for the plans and schemes laid out in 150 pages of pop psychology.
So, I managed to forgive myself for being a simple human being who can't seem to adopt the perfect psychological formula for perfect lifelong romance.
I finally get it, too, that the responsibility for a decent relationship isnt' all mine. I don't have to try so darned hard to be the one to make the relationship happen. If it's not happening properly, there's problems on both sides, and I'm not going to make myself crazy trying to fix a problem that might not even be mine.
And then I took a breath...
There is room now for me to pick up again that thread of my life that controls career and economic independence--the one that got dropped because of illnesses, both physical and mental, that are no longer there. Fear, though, is there--what will I do when I start to make money again? Will I spend all of it on fivoloties? Probably not. I don't have an insatiable emotional need to pefect me thru clothing and the hippest music any more. Will I now spend it all on items to help me keep up with the other middle-aged Joneses? Maybe not. I know though that it's going to take me a little time to start to trust myself with earning money, and that my Father's berating me about my inability to hold on to my money was a subtle strategy to keep me dependent on him.
He can get mad at me all he wants. He's already mad because I graduated from a fancy-girl college and I'm doing something with those newfangled computers that he doesn't comprehend.
Besides, after he's gone, who's going to take care of me?
Only Me.
And a cardboard box won't be sufficient when it's five below in New England.
I remembered how, before I came down with chronic fatigue syndrome, I was independent. I had a good (but not great) job, a sports car, and money to burn. I didn't know what to do with the money I made, and I was pretty miserable emotionally (for alot of reasons), so I spent alot of my money on clothes and music--the things that made me happy. Even after I married, I made more money than my husband, which enabled us to take a cross-country road trip and to live not lavishly but rather spend-thrifty....
Then I realized that, between the physical illness and the emotional troubles of an abusive family and a bad marriage, I spent a great deal of money on therapy trying to fix it all up....
When what I really needed to do was move away from everyone and start my life over....
So I questioned myself as to why I spent all that money on therapy....
And then it hit me...
I am a perfectionist. Clear and simple. I spent all that money on therapy because I wanted my marriage to be perfect. We were, among our friends, The Perfect Couple--on the outside anyway. And, given there was no admission by my then-husband that marriage is a a two way street, I took the responsibility of perfection on myself. The only way to perfect me, since my body had gone on the fritz with chronic fatigue, was to perfect my emotional state so that I could live with him.
As I said, I should have just up'ed and left. But I didn't want to be a two-time loser stuck at home with a debilitating illness and an unsupportive family....so I went to lots and lots of therapy in an attempt to keep myself married.
But I also realized that I was trying to perfect myself for Mr. Perfect even before my second marriage,that I was working like a dog to try to perfect every aspect of my relationships now....
And, that I was not only making myself nuts over it, but I was neglecting my financial independence in some quest to create The Perfect Relationship.
I had no clue how my desperate desires to have the Perfect Relationship, and the subsequent Perfect Marriage, was causing me to neglect, even forget about, the importance of being economically independent. For some strange reason I thought if I found Mr. Perfect, and the marriage was perfected, where all our needs from the past and the present and into the future would be perfectly met, then I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not I'd be living in a cardboard box in retirement.
To paraphrase Malcom Gladwell, author of Blink and The Tipping Point , how can one be an expert at something they know very little about or have no experience with? I was trying, for the longest time, to be an expert with marriage, when I had no experience nor idea of what a good marriage should look like.
Nowdays, my Father freely and openly admits that he never loved my Mother--that they had something of a business partnership and took care of each other, but they were never really in love with each other.
Becasue I'm an astute observer, and had spent time with people who truly are in love with each other, I knew this before he ever admitted it to me or to himself.
When I realized all the time, energy and effort I put into trying to attain something that, in my life, might be truly unattainable because I have no parameters or paradigms to help me understand how to create it, I got a bit angry and a bit depressed.
Even though there are tons of self-help books out there that purport to have all the answers for creating the perfect relationship, the fact of the matter is that we are all fallable, imperfect, human beings, and no amount of rule or formula or life-planning can pefect a human being. We are far too complex for the plans and schemes laid out in 150 pages of pop psychology.
So, I managed to forgive myself for being a simple human being who can't seem to adopt the perfect psychological formula for perfect lifelong romance.
I finally get it, too, that the responsibility for a decent relationship isnt' all mine. I don't have to try so darned hard to be the one to make the relationship happen. If it's not happening properly, there's problems on both sides, and I'm not going to make myself crazy trying to fix a problem that might not even be mine.
And then I took a breath...
There is room now for me to pick up again that thread of my life that controls career and economic independence--the one that got dropped because of illnesses, both physical and mental, that are no longer there. Fear, though, is there--what will I do when I start to make money again? Will I spend all of it on fivoloties? Probably not. I don't have an insatiable emotional need to pefect me thru clothing and the hippest music any more. Will I now spend it all on items to help me keep up with the other middle-aged Joneses? Maybe not. I know though that it's going to take me a little time to start to trust myself with earning money, and that my Father's berating me about my inability to hold on to my money was a subtle strategy to keep me dependent on him.
He can get mad at me all he wants. He's already mad because I graduated from a fancy-girl college and I'm doing something with those newfangled computers that he doesn't comprehend.
Besides, after he's gone, who's going to take care of me?
Only Me.
And a cardboard box won't be sufficient when it's five below in New England.
posted by Tish Grier at 9:39 AM
3 Comments:
It's interesting... there are some things you've said that ring true, like the importance of being able to take care of yourself. But some things I can't fathom. My marriage is not perfect because, as you say, we are imperfect people. But I've never felt like I was somehow giving up some part of myself to it. I've felt more like it was a safe place to BE myself, when I couldn't be that anywhere else. Maybe I'm just the rare case.
I too am a recovering perfectionist. But therapy was actually what helped me get over my perfectionism. I realized why I felt I HAD to be perfect (it had alot to do with my mother), and once I realized it, I could resist those compulsions. But yes, to each their own. If what you needed was to move away from everyone, then I'm glad you got to do it.
By the way, I love your writing :)
Wow. The more I read, the more it seems like you and I have been through a lot of really similar stuff - marriage, divorce, the psychological stuff. A lot of this post sounds very familiar to me.
It took me a while to learn that perfection is totally overrated, not to mention impossible. It's the imperfections that make us all interesting anyway. :)
I hope you find the relationship you're looking for. I still can't bring myself to take that leap of faith and give it another shot wiht someone new. Maybe someday. Women like you who have, give me hope.
It has taken 4 marriages, 5 years of therapy and a lot of tears to finally figure out that I can't be what others want me to be no matter how hard I try. WOW what a concept.
The other thing I had to accept was that I needed to learn how to be choosey. Just because some guy wants me doesn't mean I should go along with it.
The other thing I learned finally was that I will never get daddy to love me. He never did and he never will. The truth is it doesn't matter anyway. A parent is someone who raises you with love and guidance. Just because a man had sex with my mother doesn't make him a father.
I did move away and start my life over at the age of 45 and now at the age of 54 I am happily married to a man who loves who and what I am.
Somedays that feels really weird.
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