So Michael is sick, and I'm tired and losing steam after only 21 weeks of pregnancy, and my house is a MESS! I've been doing really good just to get the dishes done each day, and that's only because I hate to hand wash sippy cups. The perfectionist in me wants to just ignore my fatigue and get this house cleaned up, but trust me, I've tried. The energy is just not there, and there's no way that I can will it into existence.
So as I've mentioned here, I've been doing a lot of introspection, soul-searching, personal inventory, whatever-you-want-to-call-it lately. And one of my huge discoveries is that, as it turns out, my propensity toward perfectionism stems from my desire to control my life so that I don't repeat history and end up with the same screwed up family in which I grew up, instead having the perfect June Cleaver life. (Interestingly enough, I never watched that show - too annoyingly unrealistic for me.) And when something gets in the way (like, uh, life and reality), I get really frustrated and depressed. I did a lot better at letting go of some of that control when I was on Zoloft, but I figure that now is a great time to work on it sans medication since I'm trying to not have to go back on it unless necessary after the baby is born.
Michael will be thrilled with this belated confession since he's been saying that for years in not so many words (or maybe it was verbatim, but I refused to listen). It was something that I just had to learn for myself, though, in God's good timing. I also just kept thinking that he was trying to get out of keeping the house cleaned up or the yard mowed - blame it on my neurosis...convenient. I still think he does lean on that informal diagnosis a bit much, but I'm sure there's a meeting-each-other-halfway that can be attempted.
So anyway, if you come over unexpectedly and my house is in shambles, know that I'm working things out. ;)