When the book comes up and people have not heard about it, I explain the topic – in brief – if they ask. They seem interested and nod as if pondering something much deeper. I blanket the answer as this is “My journey – my story” of how I made peace with the feeling of not being good enough; that I was driven by everyone’s expectations of acting and being and doing my life in a certain way. In no way, shape or form am I trying to project my journey onto theirs (or sell the book, but that’s always a perk).
The look on their face turns inward. I usually take a bite of my sandwich in this interim not knowing what they will come back with. And, though I have no study to back this up, three out of four times the person says, “I didn’t think I was a perfectionist, but I do _____. Does that mean I am?” The topic instantly catapults them into a sort-of self-examination. A wondering if they’ve mislabeled their own selves, of wanting answers. I did not write the book for this intent, but as the message gets out there, it’s finding a home with more than just perfectionists.
My sister-in-law and I discussed this while hanging out on our annual girls weekend. She said, “I am not a perfectionist, but so many of the ideas you wrote about resonated with me.” The journey the book goes on is one of awareness, ownership, grace, and recovery. It introduces you to a messy life, one that is not clean but not in terms of drug addiction. Rather an addiction to living completely outside of yourself, for the opinion of others. It gives tools on how to bring your voice to the surface. So it is surprising that this is happening? A little. Read More
