Dear Girlfriends,

Just the idea of perfect work makes me laugh out loud. Yes, I enjoy running my own marketing company, but let me tell you - it ain't perfect.

As a young professional, my Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection required that my work be exhilarating in every way. I thought my daily labor should be intelligent and interesting; the people I work with should enthusiastically accept my direction and input; the customers I served would appreciate the daily investment I would make to ensure their success; my superiors would recognize and congratulate me on a job well done by promoting me to a role with more authority; oh, and the job would pay mega bucks as I make a difference for mankind. Ha. Ha. Ha.

As it does with most high-achievers, my Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection was stalking me in my profession. The epiphany would not come for several years, until I finally realized that it was not the work itself but my expectations that were warped. So, just like I accepted that Mr. Perfect didn't walk the face of the earth, I came to the conclusion that perfect work doesn't exist, either. But by rethinking how I looked at my work, I achieved much greater satisfaction without having to change my career. Let me show you and maybe it can help you tame your beast, too.

The Pushmi-Pullyu Thought:
My work must be purposeful and, in the grand scheme of life, make a difference.

Taming the Pushmi-Pullyu:
It's not likely that marketing technology products will change the course of anyone's life - but my profession allows me to fulfill my purpose, which is to encourage my girlfriends. My hobby, not my work, fulfills my passion that allows me to contribute to something greater than myself.

The Pushmi-Pullyu Thought:
I am not fairly compensated for my contributions to the organization.

Taming the Pushmi-Pullyu:
Compared to people who really do make a difference - teachers, clergy, social workers, police officers - I'm grossly overpaid for what I contribute. Rethinking this ... now I'm embarrassed by what I earn compared to these who have given their lives to careers that I wouldn't do for all the tea in China.

The Pushmi-Pullyu Thought:
I am bored with this work - I think I have outgrown the organization.

Taming the Pushmi-Pullyu:
Since I can complete my tasks more efficiently than others, I can further contribute by helping my co-workers with their workload. Aha, maybe I can contribute to mankind and work here after all!

The Pushmi-Pullyu Thought:
I'm sick of our customers' unappreciative attitude; they're so high-maintenance!

Taming the Pushmi-Pullyu:
No high-maintenance customers, no job. I am thankful for every one of our customers - regardless of their ability or desire to express appreciation. My role is to be gracious, regardless of their apathy for the sacrifices I make. Besides, what goes around, comes around.

The Pushmi-Pullyu Thought:
I'm sick of my peers and their terrible attitude.

Taming the Pushmi-Pullyu:
I love my iPod and these new headphones are great! Praise God for those engineers at Apple!

If you work in a job that you have chosen, if you serve in a role where you're competent, if you provide a service to others - either employees or customers, and if you feel good because you've done an honest day's work for an honest day's pay - that's about as perfect as it gets.

Congratulations,
Ellen

Posted by Ellen on June 26, 2007 2:28 PM  |  Category: The Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection

Dear Girlfriends,

I seriously considered writing this Truth Nugget with only these three words:

But I decided - no....some of you clearly need a bit more explanation. I know this because I've read your "want ad":

Single, 30-something female looking for tall, dark, and handsome; must be well educated; professionally successful or at least demonstrates the capacity to earn mid-six figures in the next two years; cooks - preferably gourmet - and grocery shops; is the life of the party; longs to father our three perfect children; loves a good chick flick.

I've read the "want ads" from my married girlfriends, too:

Married, 40-something female looking for someone else (but this time with a sub-40 inch waist); demonstrates his tolerance for debt by looking the other way after my Saturday afternoon shopping frenzy at the mall; enjoys meatless dinners; knows better than to answer honestly when I ask, "Does this make my butt look big?"; adores the three rude teenagers I will bring into this marriage as if they were his own; watches anything other than sports.

Whether single or married, the Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection can turn a high-achieving woman's quest for Mr. Right into a never-ending search for Mr. Perfect. I'm afraid we often rule out or wring out our Mr. Rights looking for the perfect man to fulfill our vision of a perfect relationship. Girlfriends, although Steve will disagree with me on this - I'm here to testify that Mr. Perfect doesn't exist.

Am I asking you to settle? You know I would never! But our Pushmi-Pullyu of Relationship Perfection is often way out of control, with expectations that can never be filled. What I'm asking is for you to consider rewriting your "want ad," taking into consideration those attributes that define him more than refine him. What would happen to your love affair if you wrote:

Self-confident but not-so-perfect woman looking for a man who is looking for the love of his life; silly enough to make me laugh and strong enough to challenge me when I'm out of line; willing to help me support our family; daring enough to put up with our out-of-control children; fights bigotry and hatred; demonstrates his love for God through his display of humanity for those who are down and out; will watch a chick flick under extreme duress.

Rewrite your "want ad" and take another long look at Mr. Right. Don't let your Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection drive him crazy, too.

Mrs. Right,
Ellen

Posted by Ellen on June 19, 2007 2:37 PM  |  Category: The Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection

Dear Girlfriends,

Sit up straight. Put your feet on the floor. Use your fork. Say please and thank you. Wait your turn. Tell the truth. Chew with your mouth closed. Do your homework. Be kind. Save your money. Say your prayers. Eat your veggies. Don't interrupt. Don't point. Don't whine. Don't smoke. Don't judge. Don't do drugs. Don't say bad words.

Parenting - arrrgh, there's nothing like it. The endless rules; the endless joys; the endless laundry; the endless laughter; the endless nights spent in prayer.

But did I miss something on the list? I thought my perfect parenting would lead to perfect kids - or at least fully functioning adults. What did I do wrong? Do you think you missed something on the list, too?

There are millions of mothers out there who, like us, did everything "right" but whose success rate is 50/50 or less. Their children - regardless of the amount of direction given and love dispensed - did not turn out to be enthusiastic contributors to society. There are many of us who share the burden that despite our every effort to be perfect parents ... our children failed to thrive.

Nurture versus nature? Lots of people love to debate the topic. I don't debate it. I live it.

My first-born, Shauna, was about as easy a child to raise as there ever was. An honest little rule-follower, she was a spirited child, and funny - she would sit in the floor and play with her plastic farm animals for hours (yeah - sort of weird for a three-year-old girl, but she turned out OK). I believed with all my heart that the same love, attention, affection, and education I would provide our newly adopted four-month-old son would overcome his family history of substance abuse and mental frailty. I thought, "How can he fail?" Today, I wonder how he'll survive.

But I didn't get to this place of understanding until long after Scott had left home and chosen a life that to me was incomprehensible. My Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfect Parenting was driving me mad as I lay awake, night after night, wondering what I did wrong. Until a soft word came to me as I prayed into my pillow that my parenting was in every way complete; I had fulfilled with great enthusiasm and energy the calling of "mom"; I had embraced with my every fiber their physical, emotional, and mental development. I could no more take credit for Shauna's beautiful character than I could for Scott's poor judgment. What I came to understand and finally accept was that the outcome is not controlled by me, but falls to a force called free will that is even stronger than the mightiest mom.

If you hit a grand slam with your child rearing, count yourself lucky; we're cheering for you and your children as they round the bases. If you're like me and still have one in the dugout - count yourself blessed. You, my girlfriends, have been blessed with humility; you are mothers who are living examples of tremendous faith; you are mothers who never give up; you are mothers who know not to judge; you are mothers who know to pray for other mothers' kids without them even asking. Now, that's a gift.

Still swinging,
Ellen

Posted by Ellen on June 12, 2007 2:24 PM  |  Category: The Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection

Dear Girlfriends,

It was a warm afternoon in May; I was fourteen years old. My Mammaw, who had carefully sewn my junior high graduation dress, gazed over my shoulder as we studied my reflection in the mirror. The tailor-made "gown" fell to my ankles - my first long dress, with matching shoes! Amazed at the girl looking back at me, I remember telling Mammaw, "I look so pretty." I'm embarrassed to share with you that this is the last time I can remember thinking such flattering thoughts about my physical appearance.

Sometime in my early twenties, my self-critique of my appearance moved from observant to painfully critical. The Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection had me on the run and to be honest with you - I'm not sure, even today, who's chasing who. You, too?

Why can't we be pleased - even better, be thrilled - with our healthy bodies and faces kissed with the engaging stories of character and experience?

It was the beast of perfection, girlfriends, that was driving me to increase my workouts. My mach-seven metabolism is finally beginning to slow. Hormones and age have begun to have their way with me. (A side note for my cousins: you can stop that laughing right now - I can hear you.) My muscle tone is waning and there are more and more outfits in my closet that seem to not make it into my wardrobe rotation, if you know what I mean.

Last month, I realized I can either embrace these changes and delight in my good health or I can spend more time on the treadmill. Still trying to catch my pushmi-pullyu of a perfect appearance, I hit the endless rubber belt and stretched my weekly workouts by another two hours. After about four weeks of running fast and going nowhere, I decided that investing more time and energy in my appearance was diminishing my enjoyment of my morning routine. A triple whammy! I not only sacrificed the other things I enjoy doing, I began to dread my workout altogether, and my thighs were still chubby! I realized it was time to stop obsessing about my new extra pounds and be grateful for my flexibility, agility, and energy.

Experts believe that the value our society has placed on youthful beauty is at the heart of the problem. They're right - but here's the kicker. We're society. We're the ones who have stood back and allowed, even encouraged, this focus on appearance that has produced a generation of vanity that is shameful - and, for many families with young women suffering from eating disorders and mothers disfigured from plastic surgery, painful. Ladies, what are we doing? What if we invested the time, money, and energy we expend on our appearance into making the world a better place for our children and grandchildren; for our community? I think we need to reassess:

• Would losing a few inches make my jeans fit better? Absolutely.
• Would dropping five pounds allow me to squeeze the ever-lovin' life out of the next sixty seconds? Not likely.
• Would a perfect appearance make me a woman of substance? Not in a million years.

I know I haven't yet caught my pushmi-pullyu of a perfect appearance, but this week I have her cornered. When you catch yours, we can corral them together; and we'll all be better - as we provide a healthy example for our next generation of women.

Giving it a rest,
Ellen

Posted by Ellen on June 5, 2007 2:16 PM  |  Category: The Pushmi-Pullyu of Perfection

Dear Girlfriends,

I don't compete in races - shoot, I don't even consider myself a runner. But I do "jog" my three miles in 32 minutes and 15 seconds every Tuesday and Thursday, and most Saturdays. Sweating like a Texas sow in June, I do fine right up until I'm about 2.25 miles into the run. But then I hit a wall. My legs become heavy, my breathing is more labored, and I convince myself I can't go on. "This is stupid. Who am I trying to kid? I'm too old for this nonsense."

For the next quarter-mile, I doubt my ability to finish. For the next three minutes, I lose all confidence in myself; I dwell on my shortcomings; I focus not on what I've accomplished but on what's left to be done, and I become discouraged.

But I travel on. I continue to put one foot in front of the other because I know at about my 2.5 mile mark, I will catch my second wind and will have just the energy I need to carry me to my goal (and breakfast).

According to Wikipedia, there are several theories behind this phenomenon of catching one's second wind. One is that the second wind is the result of the body finding the proper balance of oxygen to counteract the buildup of lactic acid in our muscles; another theory is that the second wind is the result of an increase in endorphin production (endorphins are a group and type of hormone that reduces the sensation of pain and affects emotion); the final theory is that there are no physiological changes in the body at all, but that the second wind is purely psychological and is the by-product of the confidence and pride one gains by passing one's supposed limitations.

For some gals, we hit the wall in our mid-forties; others find they lack the stamina, or interest or even the desire to run a meaningful life-race in their fifties or sixties. No matter the decade, I think it happens to a lot of us, including the guys. Finishing the race becomes a challenge and finishing it well becomes pure fantasy.

I write a lot of Truth Nuggets for my young girlfriends and for working moms - but for the next few weeks, I'd like to write to my fabulous forty-, fifty-, and sixty-something girlfriends on the topic of catching our second wind - not only for our own benefit, but for those who stand on the sidelines cheering us on.

Tying my sneakers,

Ellen

Posted by Ellen on June 30, 2007 10:13 AM  |  Category: Catching My Second Wind