How did perfectionism become a success criteria?

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How about the life that goes by while searching for said perfect life?

I've been in a whirlwind of emotions lately. I actually just came off the phone with my mom discussing this subject. See, the thing is, my grandmother is very sick, and I'll soon be heading to Denmark to be with her, to hug her, and to make sure we have the important conversations before it's too late. This process of being in the unknown is unbearable, and I've come to realize that I'm guilty of thinking of life as this perfect thing with no cracks.

In my perfect world no one would be sad, no one would fight during The Bachelorette (Yes, I'm talking about Edward and I and that stupid fight we had last Monday resulting in not watching our favorite TV-program), no one would suffer from cancer or any other diseases. Everyone would be nice to each other at all times, and every family event, date, vacation, would be nothing but joyful. 

I've always done things a tad more perfect than needed. Cutting out that avocado in perfect slices to put on my toast. Tearing the whole page out of my notebook to start all over, just because I wrote an ugly letter. Made the bed before I got into, so that it would be perfect when I went to sleep. Made sure everyone was happy. 

But going through a hard time with a sick family member, and therefore going through all these emotions, have made me realize how much I actually hide from sad times. There's a Christina who's extremely sad, to the point that I will cry my eyes out - imagine the crying Kim Kardashian - and then there's the other Christina who keeps herself so busy, that she doesn't have to be sad. Maybe it's a way to deal with hard times, but I think I have to embrace the sadness more. I don't want it to be a volcano that build up, and build up, and build up and then explodes. Because that's what I always do. I don't deal with the sadness, I put it away. 


I can't help but wonder if I would be happier in total, did I give more space to be unhappy?

Would crying a little bit a little more make the smile bigger? Is the perfect to be found in the imperfect?

I don't have the answer to these questions as we speak, but I'm sure I will find them down the road. Hopefully before the lava becomes poisenes. 

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