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My search for perfect

It’s been frosty for the past month. We’ve needed the kitchen lights on to see our breakfast and have taken a torch out after 5 and whilst that certainly all helps with that wintery feeling, until those first flakes of snow start falling from the sky, with the fire burning in the background and a house smelling of fresh gingerbread and cinnamon – it just isn’t winter for me. Christmas or not!

I’m the same with all the seasons. Summer doesn’t feel like summer until I’ve sat on freshly mowed grass, in the sun, wearing the same smelling sun cream as always. All my senses have to be intoxicated with information for me to really ‘feel it’ and I’ve found that as I get older, it’s getting harder and harder for me to embrace things without everything being ’perfect’.

Autumn must be seen in water, with trees of varying colour reflecting back on a perfectly still blanket of H2O. In fact, I’ve pretty much given up on my perfect springtime now as it includes Daffodils, icy Snowdrop leaves and the smell of bleach and furniture polish from my ‘spring cleaning’.

My search for perfection used to just be an office obsession, which only came out when I was doing presentations or creating documentation, but now, as a stay at home Mum, I’m finding that my idealistic hunt is starting to pollute everything. Trying to decorate is becoming a living nightmare. My family and I moved into this house two years ago, the kitchen is now it’s fifth new colour and I’m still not convinced. This does not amuse my husband.

The imperfections of any situation or environment jump out to me. I really can’t pinpoint when or where it all started. I don’t know if it’s the constant TV images, photographs and films all depicting how things should look and how things should feel or whether it’s something that has evolved in me. Whatever the reason, I really hope I can get past this and try and enjoy the situation, even if it isn’t the same as the last time.

I can’t even tell you if my perfect situations have actually happened, or whether my mind has taken a snapshot of the best of them all and merged them into a completely unachievable target. After all, without letting go and experiencing things, will I ever learn to appreciate new things?

It seems like something that I could easily achieve when I write it down and read it back, but I’m not convinced in reality that it will be so easy.

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