Failing With An A+

My husband says I fail my way through life with an A+.  There is some truth to what he says, although it makes me feel slightly irritated when he says it, as I had it drilled into me by father that nothing less that 110% effort was worthwhile.

Any job worth doing is worth doing well!  If you are going to be a street sweeper, then be the best street sweeper.  Why did you only get 96%; what happened to the other 4%?

I don’t see myself as an overachiever.  I see myself as wanting to do my best, and if I am honest, never wanting to disappoint.  I admit that the expectations for myself often create stress.  If there is work to do, I want to complete it before I rest, unfortunately; as a teacher, the work is never done.  Before the cancer threat, I felt like a dog chasing its tail: never able to get ahead of myself.  I was undeniably wound tight.

Since returning to work, I seem to have a different perspective.  I do I what I can, and give myself permission to leave some work for tomorrow.  I am not less productive, but I am a lot more relaxed.  I hope this shift in attitude holds.

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