Perfection is not a worthy goal, just a headf**k

The second you enter motherhood, you enter a realm where nothing else than perfection (an ever elusive concept, defined in many different ways by different people at different times) is good enough. Interestingly, you apparently also become responsible for the behaviour of everyone around you and the child/ren – because it is to you people look, and to you they comment, insinuate, pass on ‘advice’, show concern, and other mental oil spills.

Many, many women buy this con, and bend and twist themselves out of shape to try and live up to expectations from all and sundry – presumably to be rewarded with a saintly halo and everyone’s approval (including that of their children, their partner/spouse, family, etc.), but in the process shooting themselves in at least one foot.

Because that neurotic approach to life almost guarantees that approval is the last thing you will get. People will instinctively identify a sucker – and a responsible, capable, load-bearing sucker to boot. Who better to pass on unwanted tasks, extra responsibilities, lurking discontent or a random grumpy mood to?

On top of it, neurotic near-perfection is a very lonely place. And who can blame others for avoiding the living, breathing reminder of their own imperfection and slackness when they wish to share the more agreeable aspects of their nature, and instead seek more fun, feelgood company?

It can be lonely to opt out of this M.O. too. But at least you have a bit of authentic self for company when it finally is nice and quiet.

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