Speaking of perfectionism, I thought you’d appreciate this story from the BlogHer convention I attended back in July.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, sometimes these events can bring out the insecure, pimply seventh-grader in me, the one the boys used to get to the prettier, more popular twin sister (not that I still have issues about that).
After I won a seat at the popular sisters’ table, I quizzed both of them about their blogs.
“So what do you blog about?” I asked the older sister, who looked a good seven years younger than me (without cosmetic surgery).
“I have three blogs,” she explained. “I blog for BlogHer, I have my own blog, and then I have one with my sister.”
I look at her sister, one seat over from me, to verify if this is actually true. The sister nodded.
“So then you must do that full time?” I asked.
“No I have a day job, so I do all the blogging at night.”
I panicked at hearing that. My inner demon yelled: “She’s doing three or four times what you are in half the time. You’re so lazy.”

“So, I take it, you don’t have kids.” Phew. At least I had that excuse.
“Actually, I have a little girl whose two and a half.”
“Okay,” I said, “let me get this straight. You have a young daughter, a full time job, and write three different blogs? Plus [I squeezed her biceps … she was wearing a sundress], I can tell you work out…”
“Don’t forget about the book!” the younger sister piped in.
“You’re writing a book on top of all this?”
The older sister nodded.
“Do you know what this means?” I asked her.
She shook her head.
“You’re on the psych-ward tract.”
The younger sister spit out her Diet Coke.
“See!! She doesn’t even know you and she can tell you’re doing too much!”
Then she looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. “She won’t listen to me.”
My inner alarm was sounding throughout the whole conference because I felt like
like a mentally-challenged Energizer bunny beating a stupid drum circling the floor of the exhibit hall saying, “Traffic …. Traffic …. Traffic …. Traffic…. Traffic…. I must increase Traffic….. Traffic….Traffic …. I must increase traffic.”
That’s what happens when OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) meets perfectionism: the energizer bunny behaves as if he’s eaten two cartons of diet pills loaded with caffeine and reveals a few of his personality flaws.
But I do think I’m making progress, because, at one point in the conference, my inner alarm sounded so loudly that I was sure that all the other bloggers heard it and were going to write about it. I was getting way too close to that brick wall or prison of perfectionism—of believing that my self-worth should be based on my traffic numbers—so I simply cut out of the workshop and sat on the Navy Pier listening to a really bad live band.
I thought back to the afternoon with Eric in Baltimore and came to my senses. I told myself:

Self, this is not that important, not in the big picture, which you obviously can’t see with that blindfold on. Higher traffic numbers won’t make you happy. Remember? You tried that once with books. Peace is found within you and with God and with meaningful relationships. Now stab that drugged bunny in the back and get back to the conference.