Perfect

I have never considered myself a Type-A personality. In fact, I am quite- Type-B. My space is a little messy (a lot bit if you ask some people), but it’s a clean mess if there is such a thing, and it doesn’t bother me. I know where everything is in my stacks of papers and books. I am in no way a hoarder, though. I periodically go through piles and throw things away. I am practicing for one day when I become a professor and have an office that’s a little unkept. It probably bothers my mom a little; she is a classic Type-A, and she raised a Type-B. There is a room in my house that I never unpacked. I have lived in my house for a little over a year. I don’t like to unpack. I always feel like I may move again, so why go through the hassle. Though, recently I have considered moving everything in that room to my shed, so I can put the spare bedroom to use.

Upon reflection, I have realized I may be more of a perfectionist than I may want to admit. Especially when it comes to particular aspects of life. For instance, art. I stink at art. I am terrible at it, but I am a perfectionist when it comes to craft. I have great ideas, but I don’t have the skills to accomplish what is in my head. Every month I send members of my family a Monthly Inspirational message, and every month it doesn’t turn out the way I want it to, and I wish it looked differently. It’s the thought that counts, right?

Another area I have always considered myself a perfectionist in, though, is school. Since I was young, I have always strived to get good grades—the best I could. It was always a contest within myself. To be better. To get better grades. Even though the struggle was mostly internal, there was outside influences, too—if a friend got a better grade than me, etc. I had straight As for most of my school career. School was never really a struggle for me, so getting good grades wasn’t difficult. I graduated high school with Honors and a 4.0. However, because school has always come easy to me, I did not put as much effort into school as I could and should have.

Once I got to college, I struggled for the first time with my math class. I sought a tutor, and worked with the other students in my class, but we all didn’t do well in the course. My professor was a visiting professor from another school, and he didn’t know how to break down math for college algebra. When I transferred colleges, the credit from the class did not transfer. So, I had to take the college algebra again before I could attend the new school. The second time I enrolled in the class, I was attending a local school, which held class online. Taking math online was extremely difficult. Mostly because it was hard to demonstrate that I understood concepts online. I ended the course with a B. For most people I know this isn’t a defeat, but to me, it felt like one. I struggled with it for quite some time (probably, too long). When I transferred, many of my courses transferred as Pass/Fail, which brought my GPA down. This was very frustrating to me. I ended up graduating Magna Cum Laude, which to most is impressive, but to me wasn’t good enough. I vowed when I went to graduate school that my grades wouldn’t drop. Then 2009 and the swine flu happened. That semester while a lot happened, personally and academically, which impacted my grades. I lost my Moe-jo (as it is known in my world), and I ended up not finishing my degree until 4.5 years after I graduated (while I was earning another BA). Again, I graduated with Honors, and Magna Cum Laude. My second BA, again Maga Cum Laude, but I desperately wanted to graduate Sum Cum Laude.

My first semester of PhD studies began, and I got a B in my first class. I submitted the same assignment twice, so I received a 0 on one of my assignments, and was still less than 1% away from an A. I am not ashamed to admit I cried. Probably too much. A couple semesters later, my professor stated that he received 3 Bs during his coursework, and when you are hired, HR departments do not look at that. I ended up graduating with several Honors and Magna Cum Laude. Though, I realized some very important things about myself: I will never be perfect, and I am not meant to be.

This is an important lesson to learn and understand.

I know I will always struggle making sure my writing is perfect. My writing reflects me, and if it is not perfect, what does that say about me? I will write and re-write and edit something I write before I will publish it, and most of the time, afterwards as well. This includes informal writing as well—texts. I want to make sure my audience understands what I mean. With texting that is difficult because the intent is often hard to decipher. I will admit my blogs are not always edited in the best manner because it’s emotional writing, and sometimes, my emotions interfere with my logic. I am working on being better at letting the emotion read through. Doing so will make me a better writer.

Editing is like life in a lot of ways. I must try day after day to be better, to be closer to perfect. Though I know, just as my writing will never be perfect, I will never be perfect. But I can be better each day than the day before. I can be a better friend. I can be more patient. I can be bolder. I can forgive better. I can be a better version of me. There are a lot of ‘cans” I can do. All these cans will cause me to be braver. Recently, I read a book entitled Brave, Not Perfect by Reshma Saujani. While I do not recommend the book because it was too political and the examples were not relatable, I learned lessons. I need to be more of a risk taker in my everyday life, while not being afraid to fail. The main idea of the book was to break free of the idea of perfection and leave safe behind. While I have never been afraid to fail, I do like feeling the safeness choosing correctly does bring.  For example, earning good grades is safe, and leads to a nice, safe path—job, house, marriage, etc. On the other hand, failing will teach new things and allow growth. Failing allows vulnerability. Failing helps people get through the tough times. If you never fail, you will not know how to get through the hard times of life. And those times will come. At times, they will feel like they will never end.

I have had something on my heart God told me in March 2019. I wasn’t expecting it, and honestly, I haven’t been sure what to do about it. I know it’s been over a year, but the feeling isn’t going away. Part of me has been afraid to act on the prompting—what happens if I fail, what happens if I get hurt? There are always a million reasons not to do something. A million excuses to make to convince myself to take the safe route. I don’t want to live a safe life.

Many of the best experiences of my life have come from me taking chances. Everything I experienced in Greece was caused by bravery, not fear. Going on that trip was brave. Learning how to share more of myself was brave. I have taken some of the lessons I have learned with me from that trip. Some, I must remind myself of. I fail quite often at allowing myself open up to others. You see, it’s safe to stay inside my own world; I can never get hurt that way. But opening myself up to hurt has allowed for some of the most beautiful friendships I have—ones I will treasure my entire life. Those friendships are the ones I know will help me through the bad times. They have before; they will again. Even though I keep my Circle of friends small, I always have more room for that kind of friends. Friendship is about quality not quantity.

Jokingly at work, the students call me Morgan Poppins. We joke that I am Mary Poppins’ sister, and I, too, am practically perfect in every way. I can tell you with all honesty and sincerity I am far from perfect. There is so much I can be better at, and I am painfully aware of my imperfections. Yet, those imperfections don’t upset me. As weird as it sounds, I know God made me perfect in my imperfections. Those imperfections help me grow, teach me empathy, and help me be a better person. So, each day I wake up and try to be a better version of me than I was the day before. Some days are better than others. Other days I feel like I failed. I am reminded of a talk I once heard teaching God does not expect perfection but a perfect effort. Every day I try to be a better person is perfect effort. When I really struggle, I sing the Pink song, “Perfect”: “Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you’re nothing/ You’re f****n’ perfect to me!”—some time loudly, other times very quietly.The world is tough. There are a lot of critics. Often, I am my own worst critic. There are a lot of people who are better than me at a lot of things. There will always be someone prettier, smarter, funnier, etc. Still, there is only one me. I know me, and all my faults better than anyone else. I try not to dwell on them. Recently I read a talk by LDS President, Russell M. Nelson, who said, “perfection doesn’t come in this life but the next.” When I feel overwhelmed by my imperfections, I need to breathe deeply, meditate, find the positive—because there is a lot more positive than negative, and take life one day at a time: give my perfect effort each and every day.