The Instability of Perfection


   Say what??  Ok.. doesn't make sense, does it?  (*grin*)  Maybe not.  And
yet.. the title fits.  See.. if there's one thing about my life that I can
put down.. it's summed up in this title.  As I look back over my life.. over
my attempts to find security.. to find peace.. to find love.. the truth of
this caption rings out so true.... truer than most aphorisms I've heard or
run across.  How can it?  I mean.. how can perfection lead to instability?
One would think that perfection would only bring stability.. not the
converse.  Well.. maybe when I'm done you'll see. :)
   As a little child.. I loved school.  I loved math especially.. but school
in general was cool -- mostly because I was good at it.  I loved pleasing the
teachers.. and the rewards of commendation which came with it.  Sometimes
they even involved getting a little certificate of one sort or another..
showing my abilities to be of high caliber for my grade level.
    Unfortunately, my peers didn't like my abilities so much.  I was so eager
to please the teachers.  After all.. it *was* school.. and our job in school
was to please or educators.. wasn't it?  At least.. it was to do as well as
we could in the subjects presented us.  But.. one thing I learned.. oh so
many years later.. was just how little my own brain understood about the life
I was living.
     See.. my parents.. well.. not only divorced before I turned 5.. but..
neither of them modeled in front of me just how to be a "good partner" or
friend to anyone.  That I guess is something which parents *can* and *should*
show to their children through their relationship with each other -- how to
relate with an equal.  I think this is a big reason why a lot of us these
days are so confused and screwed up inside.. cuz we see how much our parents
hurt one another.. and think that's how we're supposed to act with our fellow
man.  Plus.. neither of them spent any time directly teaching us how to act
with friends.. nor did they even have virtually any friends who they spent
time with around us.. that I can recall anyway.
    Anyway.. because of these choices my parents made, I wasn't too well
informed as to just how to relate with compadres.  I knew that school was
supposed to be for learning.. but.. I didn't pick up on the fact that.. in
the big scheme of things.. there was a lot more to school than simply
learning what 7 times 8 was.. or what the soft sound of 'e' was.. or things
of that nature.  I didn't realize that school was also the forming-ground
where we learned how to relate with one another.  Hey.. I was 5.. what did
*I* know?
     Plus.. one other thing that I recall which didn't help the situation --
communication.. how little took place vs. how much should've. 
     As I look back at my childhood.. I often have found myself asking, "Why
wasn't I told this?"  or "Why didn't anyone let me know this?  I could've
been so much of a better person if I'd only known!"  But.. as many of you
have probably seen.. with all the cramming together of students into large
classrooms under a single teacher.. many times, kids are simply treated as
slates upon which to write facts.  Teachers value themselves often by the
number of zero's in their monthly checks.. especially with the amount of hard
work they need to do each day just to get through all the steeper and steeper
learning curves which keep showing up in our world.  All the new subjects and
difficulties which our kids must deal with for day-to-day life are not only
taxing our kids.. but the teachers as well.  And with so little time and only
their own strength to rely on.. many of the most important truths slip
through.  And communication.. the means by which you unify your heart with
another through the sharing of what's inside it.. is left alone within
school.  The teachers are focussed on the subjects.. not on the children.
And communication.. learning to share and listen.. is something which is
seldom taught.. because the "subjects" come first (and last).  Teachers these
days don't spend time helping kids who need them.. often cuz they're so busy
simply trying to cover all the material that the schoolboard and government
mandate.  Their eyes are on their books.. and not on the hearts behind the
faces of the kids they see each day.  I am convinced that.. had a teacher or
two simply *told* me one or two facts here and there.. about why I was so
ostracized and hurt by my fellow classmates.. it would've saved me years of
hurt.
    Ok.. a lot of you are probably thinking, "Isn't it the parents' job to
teach a child how to communicate?"  And yes.. you're right.. it is..... but
only partially.  Anyone who is in a situation where they are teaching kids..
or involved with kids interacting with one another.. needs to be focussed at
least partially on helping the kids relate.. and not simply achieve high
marks in this or that.  If a person who is in charge of kids refuses to step
up and teach the proper way to relate (and I mean teach.. not simply point
out and punish when it was done wrong) then they are inadvertently teaching
the kids that relating well isn't that important.. only that relating bad can
be punished.
   Yeah.. but what does this have to do with perfection?  Well.. see.. my
problem back then.. as a child.. was the following:  I enjoyed doing well in
school.. yet got laughed at for making mistakes.. even when my fellow
classmates didn't.  And so.. I learned that making mistakes was *bad*.  So
bad that it meant you got hurt if you did it.. at least.. for me.  So.. I
worked harder to not make mistakes.  But.. the kids still laughed at me...
even all the more.  So.. for a time.. basically middle school.. I didn't try
so hard.. I didn't work to be always right.. and the kids left me alone.  I
wasn't teased anywhere near as much.. but I knew something still wasn't
right.  I mean.. why should they leave me alone when I don't try my best..
and hurt me when I *do* do my best?  It didn't make sense!  But.. being where
I was socially -- extremely shy and not knowing how to talk to even my
parents about this -- I didn't know to ask someone why it hurt so much.  I
was afraid to bare my soul.. thinking that I'd just get hurt.. just like when
I made mistakes.  I just thought people hated me.. and that was that.
   When I entered highschool, I tried once more to *do my best*.  I wanted a
4.0.. not just one.. but a continuous one for my entirety of my HS career.  I
figured that if I did that, then I'd have colleges knocking down my door..
and not have to worry about where to go.  People weren't too mean to me while
I was a freshman.. and i managed to finish the year with all 4.0's.  But then
came sophomore year and spanish.  I did really well... and probably caught a
lot of attention.. cuz.. every time my hand was raised.. I yielded the right
answer.  Until one day.  One day I'll never forget.  The day that.. I made a
mistake in oral participation.. and upon Sra. Vega's announcement that I had
made an error.. the entire class applauded... -- APPLAUDED!!  That I had
finally made a mistake.  It destroyed me inside.  That.. plus a few other
happenings in Sophomore year kicked me out of trying for 4.0's... and.. as
any good scholar will tell you.. 4.0's don't just fall into your lap.. no
matter *who* you are... so I didn't graduate with one.
   But this wasn't the only problem I had during my high school years.  I had
grown up living with my mother.. along with my younger brother.. because my
father, in the divorce, didn't pursue joint custody.  Personally.. back
then.. I was rather glad.  I'll admit wholeheartedly that I wasn't a perfect
kid.. even rather trying.. even painful to deal with at times.. but my mother
was so loving.  She was willing to punish.. but.. so tenderhearted that I
took the punishments to heart.. and never thought any less of her for them.
They made sense.  My father.. on the other hand.. was a different story.  He
not only punished.. but he hurt me -- and not as punishment is supposed to
hurt.. but in the heart.  He's never been my friend.  I could easily call my
mom a friend.. but not Dad.  He cut me down so much inside.. that even at 32
I'm having troubles handling the pain from it all.  Anyway.. because of a
mental problem my mom had.. both in the summer of 6th grade.. and in 8th
grade.. I ended up having to live with my father.  For me.. even the thought
of having to do that hurt.  And though I can't recall much of those 4 years
of high school at home.. I do remember a lot of pain.  Yes.. I'm still
learning how to forgive... and have told Dad that I forgive him.. but.. the
pain is still very real.. and tough to deal with.
   And see.. the pain of my father's attacks.. often attacking me when I
wasn't in any way 'wrong', but simply making my father uncomfortable.. maybe
pointing out that *he* was wrong.. managed to couple with the tears from how
my peers treated me.. and further destroyed me inside... making me think that
I was destined to not 'fit in'.. that it was somehow 'wrong' to be right.
The more 'perfect' I tried to be.. the more I got hurt.
   And this carried on.. even in college.  Not *only* in school.. but in my
'faith' as well.
    Back in my first year of college.. I happened to hook up with a guy who
went to a local college.. who played racquetball, like me.. so we played a
few games.  In term 2 of that year.. he invited me to a gathering their
church was having.. up at a local mountain.. for SLEDDING!!  I used to really
love sledding.  I wasn't too good at skiing.. but I *LOVED* to speed down
snow-covered hills in sleds or toboggans or what have you.  So I just *had*
to go.  I had a really fun time that day.  I can remember talking about my
"then" life-story.. baring my heart.. and they invited me to their church's
Sunday service.
    My first experience with that church was catechism.  At 9:00 they had
a very intense Sunday school which they called Catechism.  All I remember of
it was their rote repetition of words from verses to fill in a handout they
were going over.  It was "different".. and very 'school-like'.  Then came the
worship service -- which was very different than what I'd grown up to know of
as 'worship'.  These people raised their hands.. jumped around.. and really
seemed happy and joyful about their faith.  I think what entertained me most
was the fact that it paralleled my love for dancing.. getting your whole body
into your life/emotions.
    Well.. within a few weeks.. at the end of a service.. someone I'd been
talking a little bit with suggested I go to the altar.  I went with him and a
few others.. and was told I needed to confess all my sins to God.  And right
there.. once again.. perfection hated me.  I *did* confess many of my sins..
but.. I held some back.. since they were so grotesque.  Anyway.. during the
confession.. I was crying.. really deeply.. knowing that God hated my sins.
But after the crying stopped.. I had a real *smile* on my face.  Not a pasted
one.. but a *REAL* one -- something I hadn't had in probably over 13 years..
if ever.  So I thought this had to be real.  I still would have to deal with
those unconfessed sins.. but.. something was definitely different.  That
smile was oh so real!!
    Unfortunately.. the next step in my 'faith' was the most wrong one I
could've taken.. for me anyway.  I was told that I needed to enroll in.. you
guessed it.. a class.  And with my hatred for school, this wasn't about to
work.  You may be wondering.. how could I be hating school.. but be enrolled
in college?  If you are, you probably haven't attended college.  Or if you
have, you didn't circulate with many people.  So many people these days are
destitute inside.. longing for love.. and are told "TAKE A CLASS!"  They are
led to, in my case, room with a projection TV.. and told to watch the video
and take notes.  And just like the teachers I mentioned above.. there is no
person interacting with us.  Oh.. yes.. I had "guides" whom I was supposed to
see weekly.. and talk about the video... but.. it was still another 'class'.
I wanted to be loved!  I wanted an end to the loneliness inside!  I wanted to
know people cared.. not that I needed to recite all my sins in front of an
Altar.  I wanted to know that I mattered.. that I was worthwhile... not that
I needed to learn all these facts.  Unfortunately.. I was so lost inside..
and thought people hated me.. so.. why should I even bother *asking* for this
love?  I didn't even know what love was!  Of course.. my guides *said* that
they loved me.. but.. did they?
    I lost interest in that class.. and was eventually told that I was not
"ready" for baptism because of it... and because of the 'love' I had found in
fellow friends on the internet -- friends who accepted me as I was.. and
didn't force me to take a class to be loved.  Oh it wasn't 'love' to my
evaluating pastor.. it was an idol.  I had put the love from my friends
online ahead of my pursuit of God.. my pursuit of the 'God' who wanted me to
take a class to be loved (or so these 'Christians' seemed to be saying).  And
what's more.. I was told by this 'loving' pastor.. that I had "used" my
guides.  I had no idea what that meant.  I'd never heard the term "used" used
like that before.  And.. as many of you know.. when someone dresses you
down.. and you're really insecure... all you can do is wall up or cry.  I did
both.  And it turned me off of this church.. cuz I wasn't "perfect" and
needed to take a class to be loved.
   Since then I've left college amidstream 4 times.  I've just not wanted to
bother.  I haven't found any lasting affection for it.. any reason to keep
going that was good enough.  Plus... in the only job I ever had.. (working
for Bellingham Dairy Queen) I was expected, once again, to be perfect.  There
was "no excuse" for any order that went out the window wrong.  (*sigh*) My
days in college.. my days in Dairy Queen.. my days in churches.. they're all
with me... and they all still hurt.  Why?  Because I didn't find the one
thing I needed most -- real love.  In church after church I'd butt heads with
people.. usually a pastor.. talking about things which were true, but which
they believed otherwise.. and since I was a mere layperson.. I couldn't be
right.. and they dismissed me as such.  I was never "accepted" into their
groups.. I was always an outsider.. or at least.. that's how I felt.  I
wasn't getting the love I so badly needed -- love that Jesus told us to have
for our fellow Christians especially.
   So here I am.. 32 years old.. and imperfect.  I don't have a job.  I don't
have a real life... all I have is my pain and my hope.. that God.. the real
God.. will maybe show that He truly does love me.  And if He is showing me
daily.. as the Bible says.. then that He's not about to give up on me.. and
is going to keep pressing in.. and showing me that I don't need perfection to
be loved.  But not only that.  I need to know.. more than anything.. that..
someone will appreciate my doing my best.. cuz I really don't feel like doing
it anymore.