Easing the Sting

DSCN8079 crop redLessons & Reflections from the National Butterfly Center

I am a recovering perfectionist.

Those who know me now probably have no idea I once pursued flawlessness with the zeal of a fanatic. I set standards (mostly for myself) that were so high one might assume I had a personality disorder.  Like others who suffer this state, I was possessed by some delusional condition that led me to believe perfection was attainable; you just had to push harder for it.

After years of enduring frustration, aggravation, disappointment and self-inflicted disgrace, I took stock of all the things I’d sacrificed on the altar of Perfection. The list started with happiness, satisfaction, peace of mind and simple pleasures; it ended with time, friendships, opportunities and adventures.


Today, I concern myself with appearances only when necessary. I worry less about the things I can’t control, and I choose activities more for the opportunities and adventures they may offer than the expertise they require. I focus less on performance and more on production, and I let other people participate.

I have to say, letting go of the control freak that controlled me has been good for my soul. Because I am free from the tyrannous pursuit of perfection, I smile more, delegate often and celebrate the contributions of others. I don’t have to be first, be best or be right, and everything is more enjoyable. (Except driving...but I digress.)

For this reason, spending time outdoors is pure bliss. I am not checking a list or seeking one species; in fact, it has been widely acknowledged that I know very little about species identification. This has earned me a reputation for being “highly unreliable,” a reputation that would have killed me years ago, when the maddening voice in my head repeated the mantra Must be perfect. Must be perfect. Must be perfect.

Abandoning the relentless pursuit of some impossible ideal has made way for Being, beauty and butterflies—and my life is so much better for it.  A few weeks ago, I went for a walk in the woods and had a chance encounter with a Golden Banded-Skipper. I had no idea what it was, so I could not see the habitat was perfect while the season was not; I only saw the creature, shimmering in the dappled sunlight. I described this stranger to others, who were obviously disappointed someone more knowledgeable had not spotted it; or maybe someone with a working camera (my batteries died), or some familiarity with the bugs we were ‘hunting’ on this field trip (I missed the orientation session). But, no. It was me.

Fortunately, my description was good enough to encourage some to return to the scene of the crime in search of this special fella, and they found the worn female pictured here.  

Years ago, fear of criticism or failure would have kept me from the National Butterfly Center, the enjoyment of butterflies and the challenges that lay ahead, but the stinging BEs have lost their power over me.

PHOTO Courtesy Dean and Sally Jue, all rights reserved.

 
 

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Inside the National Butterfly Center

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National Butterfly Center
3333 Butterfly Park Drive
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956-583-5400
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