I resolve to keep things in perspective.

One of my resolutions is “Remember how little most things matter in the long run.” Also, I’m trying to be less defensive when I make mistakes.

I hate to be wrong, I hate to screw up, I hate to forget to do something – and it really bothers me when I do. I want to bore everyone with my endless explanations, justifications, and excuses.

This came up last night. At the Second-Grade Parent Social at the Big Girl’s school, a friend asked me if the Big Girl’s birthday party was going to be a surprise.

“No,” I said (what chucklehead, I wondered, would give a surprise party for an eight-year-old?). “Why do you ask?”

“Because the invitation says ‘Surprise,’” my friend explained, very nicely.

“Yes,” someone else chimed in. “I wondered about that.”

“Oh, my gosh, really? Does it? No,” I answered. “it’s not a surprise! With all the invitations I wrote, how did I manage not to see that?” I did laugh it off, but before long I raced home to look at the card. Sure enough, right at the top, it says, SURPRISE!

I immediately sent an email to class parents, with the subject head, “The surprise is on ME”:

Hello all – somehow, I did not notice that our birthday-party invitation has “SURPRISE” written on it.

How this is possible, I don’t know – but the party is NOT a surprise. Sorry.

What can I say? I feel like an idiot.

Hope to see you there! Gretchen

I’m sure no one cares – except to be relieved that there’s no danger that their seven- or eight-year-old is going to spill the beans – but it rattled me far more than it should have.

Why let it bother me? It was a silly mistake, but it made me feel defensive, anxious, out of control.

I keep reminding myself of the commandment, “Let it go.” In the long run, this doesn’t matter at all. In the short run, this doesn’t matter at all. In fact, it will probably be a funny story that we’ll be telling for twenty years.

Comments

[peter vajda]

Because of the ways we were raised, everyone, we all have grown up with the fear of being "bad" or "wrong". This imprinted childhood fear, now characteristic of us as adults, plays out countless times during the days, weeks, months years.

One of the benefits of personal growth work is arriving at a point where we can be free of this fear and view an incident, event, circumstance, or experience as "energy-free" (as the Buddhists say), i.e., it is what it is...without the reactive need to judge ourselves as "bad" or "wrong" or interpret others' (real or imagined)reactions or judgements in a way that we make ourselves feel "bad" or "wrong." You're correct...in the long run it doesn't matter...the challenge of personal growth and spiritual awareness is to arrive at the point where we are judgment-free of our self right here and right now, in every experience, in every moment.

[KCCC]

First, just want to say how much I've been enjoying your blog. We seem to share a lot of the same issues/perspectives - or at least, a lot of what you write resonates with me.

On the topic... I consider myself a "recovering perfectionist" and also hate to be wrong or fail. Recently I've been re-considering that, sparked in part by this podcast "In defense of failure" (link to transcript): http://everydaysystems.com/podcast/episode.php?id=22

Hope you find it useful. I did.

[Michelle.I]

This story made me really laugh--both at the circumstance and myself. To THIS day, probably 10 years later, I still get mad at myself for a poster I put up using "you're" instead of "your" for a thing at work. I knew the difference, unlike some people, but simply got busy and hurried instead of checking myself. When I think of the person who informed me of the error, my cheeks still go red.
Okay, so mistakes happen and we all make them. You are so right that it won't matter at all in the long run!
I will say this...I have noticed that the majority of my mistakes, falls and clumsy accidents occur when I rush. I am now working to stop the "noise" in my head and rush less which has had a profound impact on my psyche and, as a side benefit, I'm not quite as much of a "hurricane."
As always, thanks for a good story and a good blog!

[Erika]

This is a point I also really need to keep in mind. One of my largest faults is getting snippy at my husband when he points out that I'm wrong. From there sometimes escalates into an argument... all because I forget to just let the unimportant stuff slide.

[Monica Ricci]

Gretchen you think you hate to screw up? Try being a freakin' ORGANIZING EXPERT for a living. Yikes. I absolutely hate it when I do something idiotic or I show up late to a client call (or three hours EARLY like I did last week). It doesn't happen often but I hate when it does. However, I've gotten better at laughing it off and saying, "Isn't it nice to know that even professional organizers are imperfect human beings?"
~Monica

[subguy]

I thought I was the only one using the term "chucklehead".

I have a hierarchy: Chucklehead, Laughing Boy, Monkey Boy. (Monkey Boy being the worst).

[Alex Fayle]

I mess up all the time - I hate details (funny for an organizer to say that, eh?) so I don't pay attention to them enough.

Of course it doesn't stop me from being mortified by some of them, but then I think - if someone else judges me for my detail-ignoring gaffes then they have too much time on their hands. ;-)

[Mavis]

I appreciate your blog about what truly is a big problem. Since I retired I have set high goals for myself concerning personal and social matters. I was upset with myself that I had not been as successful with writing, emailing, calling, sending cards etc. to all of my many friends and family as my high expectations were.

Then I forgave myself as I remembered that many of them are retired and I had gotten no birthday cards, calls, invitations etc. from most of my friends and many family members. So I am not as upset that what I felt was big really must not be.

Your blog about Facebook made me think of this awakening I was having.

[Bruce Mitchell]

What chucklehead would give a surprise party for an eight year old? The best birthday party I ever had and still remember was a surprise when I was, you guessed it, eight years old. Every kid in the neighborhood had been invited and no one spilled the beans. My dad took me downtown to buy a birthday present and when we returned home he let me through the door first and "SURPRISE!" Everyone was there and everyone had a great time... pin the tail, duck for apples etc etc. No accounting for taste, I guess, but I don't understand the "chucklehead" bit. Not to worry, though. Most of the time, Gretchen, you force me to think well beyond my natural means; and though you often make me sad, you always make me think.

[Bruce Mitchell]

Sorry for the double post but I had to clarify the "often make me sad". Without going into unnecessary details... it isn't you; it's me. Your blog is great. You ought to find a Boswell.

[Bruce]

This really applies to me today. I didn't check something in a presentation and it ended up being wrong in a run-through. Although the error will be fixed before it goes out and it wasn't all my fault, I still felt really embarrassed. It's an area I'm responsible in. But it's not a big deal and will soon be forgotten by everyone but me. I'm just having a hard time letting it go and and I really related to the idea of wanting to apologize to everyone around to get their absolution. I could just absolve myself right now but the "I can't make an error" character flaw is really strong in me. I'm glad to hear others can feel the same.

[susan-jillian smith]

When I was 17 I watched my 45 year old father die of cancer. Not what either of us expected. I had a great Dad. He always had my back, he was honest about himself, momey, hopes and fears. But his life was short.
As he was dieing, he said something to me that I proved to be great advice. "Don't live your whole life without a dog".
I was 45 when I finely lived a life that would allow me to get a dog.
My dog is a rescue dog. But really she rescued me. She does hospital visits, plays like a puppy, and greets me at the door as if I was the greatest thing alive.
My Dad was right.