Average White Woman

“Average white woman (AWW) desperately seeking life she used to know: Clean house. Ultra-organized. Clear skin. Bright eyes. Flat stomach. Spare time for soul searching. Relaxing meals. Passionate sex life. Intact circle of friends. Intellectual conversation. If you recognize this life and would be willing to return it to its rightful owner, please contact AWW at 615.482.0264.  Bless you.”

Who knew?  On the turn of a dime, at the drop of a hat, your life takes off in ways you had always dreamed, hoped would come true, and then and there, all of a sudden, you are not you anymore. You are a different version, not necessarily better or worse, simply trying to make sense of your life and world.

Was it getting a dog? Getting married?  Having kids?  Turning 40? Losing my father? The older I get, the less I seem to know.  Because I thought I really knew myself  but I couldn’t have dreamed of this woman I have become. Some days I really like her, other days I question her sound judgment and unenviably impatience. And on the very best days, I pat her on the back for loving herself despite her many chinks and imperfections.

Because that’s what this all really boils down to: I’m a recovering perfectionist who has learned the hard way that I cannot control every detail in my life. Keeping a clean house was easy. Keeping a lean body was a lot of work but do-able.  Keeping an open heart was the ultimate challenge.  We pick partners who we unconsciously know (they are emotionally just like our mothers or fathers, surprise-surprise) and we try to make the relationship meet all of our unmet childhood needs. When the relationship ends we are devastated and our control issues are on fire.

What to do? You clean, you exercise, you write, you plan, you talk to your friends, you get a massage, you get a facial and a pedicure, and you organize your closet.  And then you precariously tip-toe out again to open that heart.  To find love.  For yourself and then another.

That’s exactly where I was in February of 2000 as I stumbled out of my bed at 6 a.m. to take my rambunctious eight-month-old Yellow Lab for a walk on the nearby public golf course.  I was barely awake, let alone presentable, when the cutest Golden Retriever puppy came bumbling over the hill by the 16th hole a mile into our walk. And with that Golden Retriever, a tall guy with a coffee mug and a baseball hat.  Hmmmm.  At the time I thought nothing of it.  We regularly met other dogs and their people.  But this puppy, whose name we learned was Holly, was the cutest, wiggly little puff of blonde fluff we’d ever seen.  And my puppy Hunter and I, we were smitten.

We never planned it but somehow Hunter and I bumped into Holly and Jeff around the same time and same place – everyday. We simply walked and talked every morning for two weeks as our friendships unfolded. Jeff and I talked about any- and everything.  None of it particularly remarkable.  But what I do remember was thinking and telling my friends about my new friend from the golf course. “I met the nicest guy on the golf course,” I’d tell them.  “He is SO normal.  AND, he has the most adorable puppy named Holly . . .”  And so it began.

Six months after we met, we moved in together.  Two years later we got married.  That same year I gave birth to our son Taggart. And four and a half years after that, our daughter Sage arrived.  Who knew what our bumping into one another on the golf course would mean? I’m not sure I even brushed my teeth that morning but fresh breath or not, I met my future husband. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that it has not all been a fairy tale “happily ever after”.  Because, in real life – at least with kids – you might just get a colicky baby and sleep deprivation and if you are really unlucky, a bout of post-partum depression.

I think this is where the letting go began. I have not figured out how you can be a perfectionist and an emotionally present, well-adjusted, happy mom. And giving my kids a good me on most days is much better than having a perfectly spotless house (though I still long for that!). Because in the long run, I can have a clean house again but I can never get back these formative years and magical days of my kids’ youth.  (Dust bunnies be damned, you’ll just have to wait!)

But the letting go has happened in other places too – places that need to be gathered in and welcomed back into the fold.  Friendships have felt the tug of too little time and too many other demands.  So has self-care and the need for time just to be alone and hear ourselves think. Because without vigilance, these things are the first to go. And without them, we are quick to find ourselves swallowed whole by the details of our busy lives.

Herein lies the secret. We all need to know when to say when and what to let go of.  To know ourselves well enough and to be able to stand up for what we know we truly need to be our fullest, best selves.  The letting go that needs to transpire is of the old life and ways that no longer serve us. Clinging to those old ideas may make us feel inadequate (read: average) when in reality, we need to embrace those things in our current lives that open us up and affirm who we want to be.

The biggest risk I regularly take is letting go of those old ideas. And what is surprising is that I have to keep on taking that leap of faith if I want to grow and evolve into the woman I aspire to become.   Since my tendency as a recovering perfectionist is to cling to those things I know (because I like to think I have more control – wink, wink), letting go of what no longer serves me is a must.  Because if I don’t, I will miss out on all those wonderful, crazy, heart-breaking, endearing details along the way.
Life is what happens as we are living in the details. It is the white space all around the long list of those major milestones in our lives. I never-in-a-million-years thought I’d embrace the idea of being “average” and a recovering perfectionist to boot.  But if by average we simply mean less than perfect, then that is a risk I am willing to take over and over again.  Staying on the wagon isn’t easy but the pay-offs are huge: healthy, happy kids; a vibrant, working marriage; a warm, inviting home; and a renewed commitment to my own growth and well-being.
Who could ask for anything more?

Editor’s Note:  Average White Woman found her life.  It is more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.