On Perfection

I'm thinking of buying a house. I've never owned a home before; my most permanent belongings are a car and some rare records. Since I moved out of my parents' house when I went to college, I've been fine with apartment living. My twenties and much of my thirties included several moves, and a stretch of time from roughly 2002-2012 when I traveled frequently (2 weeks per month) for work. An apartment made sense. It was permanent enough, but gave me the flexibility to say, move to California for two years without worrying about having to sell or rent property. I guess it also helps that I'm your resident single friend, so I don't have to worry about a spouse or kids and schools. It's just me and my cat son, and he doesn't care as long as he has a window, his bed, and food.

Now when I say house, I probably mean condo given where I live and the way real estate prices work around the DMV. If I wanted an actual house, I'd probably have to live in the middle of nowhere and drive four hours to work because NOVA has become the most expensive place in the world (I'm exaggerating slightly). Amazon is coming, and I assume that part of Jeff Bezos's plan to become a Bond villain is to drive up the cost of living so high in the area where I live that it will be deserted and he'll basically exist on a land island. Rent is worse, so really the smart thing to do is buy a house/condo. It's less expensive in the big picture, and would give me the one thing I really want: space.

I have hobbies. All of my hobbies include lots of stuff. As I write this, I'm sitting at my kitchen table (also my desk when I work from home), which is currently housing a button maker, stencils, an entire collection of pens, this laptop, two notebooks, my sewing machine (sitting on a chair), and tour notes for the museum. Under the table, are nine plastic bins that contain all of my glitter purse making supplies for Nyx 2020. If you go into the closet in my bedroom, you'll find all of the embroidery and other craft supplies I own and my larger sewing kit. I only bring those things out when I'm working on a project. My kitchen table would really like to be just a kitchen table.

Real estate is overwhelming, whether we're talking about renting or buying something. Yes, my parents and many of my friends are homeowners. I know at least seven realtors, none of whom live in my state, but I know them. That means nothing. It's still overwhelming and stressful. My shoulders are killing me just thinking about it. I'm uncomfortable with this process because I know very little about how it all works. Yes, I am researching and doing my part to understand, but it's still overwhelming. And a big part of why it is overwhelming is because it's risky and there are lots of unknowns within the process.

And that is the real problem. It's not the responsibility of home ownership so much as the fact that I don't know anything about what I'm about this journey that I'm about to embark on, and that is terrifying. I was listening to a podcast from Harvard Business Review this week called "Perfect is the Enemy," and it hit me hard. The podcast could have been about me. I'm a perfectionist and as such, it's hard to do things when I'm not 100% sure I can deliver or do something completely (halfway is not good enough for me). It's not in my nature. When I think about buying a house, I immediately go to the hundreds of things that could go wrong with doing so, rather than the positives I know exist. There are things I won't control in the process, and that makes me uncomfortable. I can't color code my way through this experience (maybe I can a little).

There were a few things in the podcast that made me say "that's me" (but not necessarily in a good way). My organizational skills tend to be very rigid, especially if I'm managing a project. While I'm fine with being flexible because the project scope or needs change, I still want to do things my way because I know my way is the best way (it's not always). I take failure very personally and even minor mistakes make me feel terrible. I don't often ask for help. I've been more aware of all of these things since starting my job two years ago, and have been trying to figure out a way how to balance it all and not drive myself or my colleagues crazy. There was a section on taking compliments that resonated too. I'm getting better on that front every day.

One of the podcast hosts said something a little later in the episode that definitely made me pause:

"There was a time, when I was younger, where especially being a perfectionist was kind of like a humble brag, like, I’m such a perfectionist. You know, you’re almost sort of proud of it....But then, over time, I started to realize, really for me, it was about internalizing other people’s expectations, and even sometimes just their imagined expectations."

This is exactly how I feel, and probably the way lots of women feel. We internalize so much of what we know or perceive others feel and it's exhausting. While I know that's now why I'm a perfectionist, I know my reaction to things when they don't go well is tied directly to this feeling. The hosts went on to discuss how as they go older, they stopped caring so much about those things they felt had to be perfect. They were more comfortable with who they are, their beliefs, and what they needed to be successful. It's not about not taking feedback, but using it in a way that will make you better and deciding what that actually means.

I think that's what people mean when they tell me how much I'm going to love being in my forties. It's like there's a magical line I've crossed that enables me to say, "Yes, I'm a perfectionist. I know this isn't always a positive thing, and I'm working on that. I also know that I don't care if you don't like the fact that I don't wear makeup all that often, have strong opinions about lots of things, like order and process, but still appreciate creativity and whimsy. I live my life for me, not you."

I don't have to be perfect. None of us have to be perfect. I can still love order and lists and my way of doing things, and not be perfect. I can step into the overwhelming, but ultimately (I hope) satisfying world of home ownership and be okay with the fact that it's overwhelming and I don't know what I'm doing. That doesn't mean I'll fail or not find a place to live. There are experts who will help me. Once they do, I can unleash my very thoroughly tested process for moving (it involves five steps) and dream of what color I'll paint my bedroom.

Please enjoy this very relaxing photo of Keely. He snores; it's very soothing.