I have a confession to make: I’ve been acting a little ungrateful lately.
I live in the suburbs and the culture of perfection here is so real. When we moved I told myself I’d never succumb. I’m not the type, anyway. I’m pretty bold about who I am and what I like. I’m unapologetic. Take me as I am or move on – either way it’s your loss.
I don’t wish to insult people who love this lifestyle and thrive in it. It takes all kinds of people to make this world go round and suburban life is a huge part of the economic engine of this country. I appreciate the suburban life for all it offers me and my children. That isn’t changed by the strange pressures of real-life Pleasantville.
But for all my stubborn resistance, my proclamations, my promises to myself I ended up doing what I said I’d never do.
Lately I’ve found myself complaining a lot about what I don’t have. I don’t have a maid or a nanny or tidy kids. My children’s bedrooms are a mess, my own is…well, let’s not talk about it. I don’t have matching living room or dining room sets. The holes my kids put in the upstairs walls (one from an impromptu gymnastics demonstration and the other from an angry outburst) are only now getting drywalled a year later. Forget about painting…that’ll never happen. My son’s bathroom looks like a gas station restroom. The floors are constantly covered in whatever the dog ripped apart last. The dishes are always piled up, the laundry is never done.
When I visit other homes in my neighborhood they’re so organized and fresh. They have matching decor right out of the catalogs – a place for everything and everything in it’s place. The moms make jokes about how messy everything is and I laugh along as if I know exactly what they mean while in my head I’m wondering how I can make my “mess” look as clean as theirs.
I should have better. I should be doing better. My house should be nicer, cleaner, bigger. My cars should be newer. My kids should be tidier. I should have more pictures on the walls and books on the shelves. I should be…perfect. Why can’t I just be perfect? I would be so much happier.
I didn’t even realize I was becoming what I said I hated. I couldn’t see myself turning into the person who found her worth in her material possessions. I didn’t notice, but my family did.
While I was seeing myself as fighting an uphill battle to perfection all by myself (no thanks to my lazy, selfish, messy family!) my kids and my husband were seeing me as cranky, bitter and difficult. I’ve been fussing constantly because I keep thinking I’m one clean bathroom, one tidy bookshelf, one wall of pictures away from having the perfect home, or at least one I can be proud of. To my family, I’ve been fussing because nothing is ever good enough for me.
I told my husband, “I feel like everything around us is breaking down. We don’t have anything that’s just…nice”.
“Well, I don’t see it like that,” he responded as he stood at the sink washing our non-matching dinnerware. “I live in a place I never thought I’d ever live, and my kids have opportunities that I could have only dreamed of when I was growing up. We live in a place that is safe, the schools are good, we have a roof over our heads and everyone has a car to drive, the bills are paid…we’re making it. We’re not rich, but we have everything we need and more than we ever thought we wanted. That’s how I like to look at it”.
I rolled my eyes, not just because what I really wanted to hear was “You’re right! Here’s a wad of cash to make you happy!!” but also because he was right.
I suddenly realized that I’d become a part of the culture of perfection I abhorred and I didn’t even know it. That idea of “perfection” isn’t about cleanliness or being organized – some people are good at those things and that’s great. “Perfection” is about being unsatisfied, about never feeling like you’ve arrived. It’s the idea that contentment is right around the corner and it’s shaped like a pristine kitchen, a new car or an expensive dining room set. It’s shaped like a college degree or a baby or a number on the scale. It’s shaped like whatever it is you don’t have that you think you should have.
It’s shaped like greed.
Without even trying I had become greedy for perfection at the price of gratefulness.
Don’t get me wrong. I would like to have a tidier home. I would love a new living room set and we can be better about making our kids clean up after themselves. All that is true and more power to anyone who has those things on lockdown.
But my husband’s comments made me see that the things I wanted had turned into the things I thought I needed to be a better person that people would like. Those ideas had turned me into a complainer and no one likes a complainer…certainly not my family!
Truth be told, nothing in our lives is going to change anytime soon. We’ll still be making the same amount of money, the kids will still need things, the cars will still need fixing, the dog will still chew up everything, my home will still look like we just moved in. My profession is not conducive to keeping a perfect home and my mind does not cotton to order very well. I’m in no position to change my whole life just to find some contentment.
What I do have the power to change is my perspective. So do you. We all do.
I can choose to look at my life as a series of things I don’t have and skills I don’t possess or I can choose to look at my life as one that is most likely enviable by the standards of about 95% of the people living on this planet. I can choose gratefulness. I can choose to be thankful first. I can choose to be happy to have my health; the ability to walk and talk and move freely; to have a safe roof over my head and a plethora of opportunities for my children; a stable marriage; a dog who won’t stop eating all my stuff but who would rip the face off of anyone who tried to mess with us.
I can’t change my location but I can change my attitude.
It’s funny how much less cranky I am when I’m full of thanksgiving.
If you can’t change your life, change your perspective. Rise above your carnal contemplations and take on the air of gratitude.
It is rarified air indeed.
Just kidding....Kira is a writer, actor and suburban housewife and mother. Her mantra is "If I can't do it from the couch, is it really worth it?"
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