I once conducted a very interesting research project. Working with 8 and 9 year-olds, I asked them to draw a picture of their family, everyone doing some action. Not stick people or cartoons. Oh, and include a picture of God (these were Christian children who didn't think it was blasphemous to depict God, unlike other religions). So they would turn the paper round and round, then begin drawing. The picture above is a typical Kinetic Family Drawing (KFD). You can see each family member labeled, and doing something or another. Fascinating, I think.
Well, I remember one young girl who started drawing. She became very silent as she drew, most intently. But almost every other line got erased and she would painstakingly recreate it--perfectly. Every line was redrawn by the time she had finished the drawing. She had taken five times longer than the other students to do this, and I had to eventually stop her from continuing. She was worried because there were still mistakes in it that needed to be corrected. I promised her that she could come back and finish it up the next day. She did--another hour. I was stunned. Poor little thing: nothing was good enough for her unless she had prevaricated over it, erased it, redrawn it, looked at it, erased part of it, and then moved on to the next miniscule line. I was ready to scream after sitting in silence for that length of time, watching this little girl with a budding case of OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) agonize about the perfection of her picture.
There are so many of us who are like this but in different ways, I realized over the weekend. Take me, for example (!). I was so worried that my talk wouldn't be as good as the others and I agonized over it, rehearsed it, reworded it over and over, obsessed about how bored people's faces would be as they had to sit and listen to me, etc. But it was a good-enough paper. It was better than good enough--it was really quite good and I was delighted by the reception. But for several hours I was near tears, had stomach upset and catastrophized myself into a real state.
I hope that one day before I die I will realize in a deep way that I am human and that as such, the best I can do is good enough. Even though I am a wordsmith and love putting together sentences meaningfully, there is no need to create perfect talks, perfect phrases, seamless presentations. I can only do the best that I can do, given the time. And that is plenty.
As I was leafing through my KFD pictures a week ago, I remembered this little OCD child and wondered where she is today. I wondered if her parents caught on to what her issues were. I had sworn anonymity and as a researcher I couldn't identify her to anyone or refer her for help. That would be unethical. I have never forgotten her determined little face, frail frame, and busy eraser (I think she used up two pencil erasers during those two hours and we finally went to a large pink eraser.)
I am enough. The way God made me is fine. If I am doing my best and aiming for the highest that I can do (without killing myself to accomplish it), then that is good enough. Good reminder for today.
1 comment:
amen.
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