When I started Wildflowers & Progress, I caught myself filtering decisions about the blog through a sieve of fear regarding what a particular friend would think of me. This person has been a good friend through difficult times, but they don’t have a desire to understand what they deem illogical. They call it like they see it, even at the risk of hurting or discouraging others. I’ve been hurt by this friend, and there’s one instance in particular that I’ve carried with me for far too long.
A few years ago, I was embarking on a new challenge that I was really excited about. I shared it with this friend, and they said that I would fail, and even if I somehow succeeded, it was still a bad idea. Ouch.
I know some people believe a true friend will support you in whatever you want to do, and while there’s some merit to this, I think it’s oversimplified. If I tell a friend I’m going to jump off a building and neglect to mention I’m bungee jumping, they’re right to want to stop me.
I think that’s what happened here. This friend was operating on misinformation, but their intention was to protect me. True, I wish we could have had a discussion about my perspective, but even that’s not the real problem.
First things first: Nobody is fully encompassed by one personality type. The purpose of this post is not to oversimplify people, but rather to better understand ourselves and others, so that we can love others better.
I share this post because I’ve definitely made mistakes and learned lessons that I’m hoping to give you the shortcut to!
While there are many great personality profiles, this breakdown comes from Florence Littauer’s Personality Plus book. I fully recommend picking it up, as it’s obviously much more comprehensive than this post.
Still, I’ll do my best to provide something entertaining and valuable!
So it turns out, I am completely unqualified to write this blog.
Typically, Ken and I wake up together, I read my Bible while Ken showers, then we read the Bible together before breakfast. It’s a nice little morning routine that we’ve come to enjoy.
But on the first day I was going to start working on this blog, inspired by books praising using mornings for passion projects, I woke up a bit earlier to work. I planned to work on the blog until Ken woke up, and then I’d transition into our typical morning routine. Ken accidentally foiled my plans, though, when he woke up earlier than I had expected him to. When he came into the office to say good morning, I was frustrated by my abbreviated work time. ThenI was annoyed with myself for getting frustrated, because obviously Ken wasn’t intending to mess up my morning plans that I hadn’t even told him about.
So, unsatisfied with the short time so far spent, I forwent reading my Bible in favor of continuing to work – which threw me a little off kilter. When Ken finished his shower and returned to the office to see if I was ready to read together, I suddenly remembered that I had planned to try a new breakfast recipe – but I had completely forgotten and, obviously, not started. Oh ya, and there was wet laundry in the washer that probably needed to be changed.
I felt out of control. It was only 7:30, and I had already gotten frustrated by a non-issue (Ken waking up a little early), was annoyed with being frustrated, felt behind on my blog (which was supposed to be fun), bypassed reading my Bible, and had forgotten to make breakfast. Clearly I was a bad wife, person, Christian, blogger, homemaker, etc. Right?
If we’re being honest, I’ve been a little nervous about this first blog post for Wildflowers and Progress. If we’re being super honest, I’m a little nervous about ALL the blog posts. And it’s a prideful, unrealistic kind of nervousness. If this blog is written to give people hope that they and their lives don’t need to be perfect (which it is), then I’ll need to write about ways that I and my life aren’t perfect (which I’m/it’s not).
But here’s the internal struggle: I don’t want you to know that I and my life aren’t perfect!
Like I said, prideful and unrealistic, right? Because the fact of the matter is that you do know that I’m not perfect, especially if you’ve spent any time with me. That’s not intended to be a self-deprecating knock, it’s just the admittance that faults are not hard to find.
And here’s another fear: I don’t want you to know that I struggle with perfectionism.