I’ve been where you are. I’ve always been a bit of a perfectionist myself. I don’t think that’s all bad as we are called to excellence. However, it can make life kind of stressful. Your need for perfection can then spiral into overthinking every little move you make, criticizing yourself for things outside of your control, and shame that is totally unnecessary. You look in the mirror to find that your own worst enemy is staring back at you. You worry that if you make one mistake that people will see you as incapable and incompetent. You’ll show them you can do it all. Until you can’t. Suddenly you feel yourself teetering on the tightrope about to plummet to the ground. This was me before the pandemic started. I believed the lie that this rat race world feeds us that we must stay busy, we must produce results. So I took on added responsibility thinking I could juggle it all and also what was going on in my personal life. But really I was on the edge of burnout. My mental health was not good. My work was suffering. I was exhausted. To make matters worse my boss talked to me about my performance without asking what was going on in my personal life that was making it that way. She seemed to see my poor performance as a character flaw rather than the fact that a check engine light was on, and I desperately needed help. Deeply distressed and beating myself up for my mistakes I ended up with a fender bender. Luckily no one was hurt, but inside I was really hurting.

In 2020 the pandemic forced everything to a screeching halt. I went to my parents, house with no idea of how long I was going to be there. My parents and I were all working at home under one roof. The extra family time was a much needed blessing. My schedule usually filled to the brim with things to do was completely open for the first time in a long time. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up doing a lot of thinking and realized that I don’t need to do everything. I am human, I make mistakes and I’m going to continue to. When I do make a mistake I can choose how I respond. I can choose to respond with grace and self-compassion. I don’t have to spiral, I don’t have to walk the tight rope. A mistake doesn’t automatically mean falling. I started to prioritize more and suddenly I was worrying less and less about what others thought about my mistakes and taking the opportunity to let my mistakes teach me a lesson.

Sweetheart I know you want to move mountains and you will. But spiraling won’t get you there. Beating yourself up won’t make you stronger, instead it will tear you down more. You need to learn to rest. You need to learn that your mistakes don’t define you. Learn to embrace your humanity. Learn to love yourself the way that you would love a friend. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of self-forgiveness. You are worthy to live a life that includes mistakes because if you haven’t noticed everyone else is too. When you learn these things you’ll be freer, happier, healthier, and holier. If you don’t hear anything else in this letter hear this; unlike St. Paul, you can’t be everything to everybody, but instead of being your own biggest enemy, you can learn to look in the mirror and embrace yourself in grace and self-compassion.

With love,

Fidgeting and nausea must be a natural state for you. Movement seems to disperse a bit of that nervous energy, but the feeling of your stomach turning is enough to make your mind go blank. I spent most of my life stuck in this mode, chalking it up to a hyperactive personality and a sensitive stomach. But looking closer at my life, I could see the mismatch that was provoking all of this movement. My body was telling me to go somewhere and all I was letting it do was twiddle thumbs and do internal somersaults. I needed to move, but not just physically, I needed to move into my body and start listening to what it was telling me.

I’ll never forget the beginning of my therapy journey when I explained my visceral anxiety and the advice I was given was “You need to breathe.” Breathe? I’m always breathing. How could I be breathing any better? I came back the next week to tell her “This breathing thing isn’t making a difference; I need something else.” She laughed at me and said, “That’s all I got for you.” So, I kept breathing. Deeper, longer, more fully, more expansive, more peacefully. And now when I start to squirm or my stomach starts to turn, I can take a deep breath and get clear about what I am feeling.

I know it feels like trying to stop a freight train with your bare hands when the nervousness gears up, but the more often you recognize that chugging and start to pump the brakes, the more often you won’t have to compare your feelings to four-ton vehicles going 50 mph. Also, the more often you get to be present in moments and make conscious decisions. Breath is a place of peace as much as power. And life is so much better when you take a deep breath.