The Devil Wears Perfectionism
That's All, Miranda!
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A few days ago, I caught myself falling into a familiar trap: allowing my inner Miranda Priestly to take over my life.
Remember Miranda, the icily imperious fashion magazine editor from The Devil Wears Prada? She terrorized and traumatized her many assistants in the pursuit of perfection, demanding complete dedication to the job, at all hours of the day and night.
My Miranda lives in my head, emerging when I set myself ambitious goals, to hiss at me that I’ll never achieve anything if I don’t drop everything and focus exclusively on work. She surfaced recently when I decided to get serious about completing the novel I’m working on.
It was Miranda’s voice that prompted me to announce during a phone call to discuss the book: “I’ll probably have to start getting up at 5 am to get this novel written. I know I’ll feel half-dead by 4 pm, which is exactly when I need to deal with homework help, dinner, walking the dogs, cleaning the kitchen, and all the rest of it, but it’s the only way to get it done…”
As I spoke, I felt proud of my (future) discipline while dreading the way I knew this would make me feel and behave. Because, when I’m in this “zone,” my family, and their innocent attempts to connect through conversation, and human needs for sustenance and guidance, turn into annoying obstacles to grumble about and maneuver around.
When my inner Miranda takes over, I am not very nice to live with…
But I felt committed to the plan because it’s worked for me in the past. To achieve big goals, I have almost always taken an all-or-nothing approach that sucks the joy out of life, vowing to get up early, stay up late, cancel everything fun, and devote myself entirely to work until insert important goal is achieved, at which time I will reward myself by spending time indulging in all my favorite things again. My inner Miranda issues orders while my inner Andy (the hard-working assistant) attempts to satisfy her demands.
But just like in the movie, this strategy only goes so far. Miranda’s assistants inevitably get sick, ruin their relationships, and quit; and when I’ve worked this way, it’s led to physical and mental burnout. I’ve decided that while it’s important to finish writing this book, I want to find a new Miranda-free way of doing it.
I have not set my alarm for 5 am…
Instead, I’ve done something that makes my inner Miranda Priestly very, very nervous: I have given myself permission to prioritize the important goal of finishing my book while also enjoying my life. Instead of spending every available minute writing and consequently making myself miserable by canceling everything I love; I have made it an equally important goal to ensure I do something fun and joyful every day while making slow and steady progress on the book.
Sticking to this plan will be hard. Because the truth is, following my inner Miranda is easy, in a twisted way: given my Type A, perfectionist tendencies, it’s seductively simple to focus on just one thing to the exclusion of all else.
But it’s time for me to say “Thanks for your service, Miranda. That’s all!”
There’s a lot of excitement around our house for the second season of The Summer I Turned Pretty, which is based on the novel trilogy by Jenny Han. That excitement is mainly 16-year-old Sadie’s, but I too, loved the first season of the show for its evocative portrayal of teen friendships, first love, and family life. Ah, to be young are carefree in the summer again!
And the whole family is excited to go to the cinema to see Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning. The stunts look insane!
If you haven’t already seen it, I highly recommend the Wham! documentary on Netflix for a fun throwback to the 80s, and an interesting perspective on George Michael, whose song-writing skills, dancing (and hair) were initially ridiculed by critics. Inspired, I’ve been playing Wham Radio on Spotify in the car and around the house.
For something a lot more serious, and shocking, The Retrievals podcast is the beautifully reported story of the women who underwent excruciatingly painful fertility services at a Yale clinic without anesthesia, because a nurse addicted to Fentanyl stole the painkiller for her personal use. Thought-provoking and horrifying, it’s a gripping listen.
How often do you feel lucky? I’ve been thinking about luck a lot lately, and appreciate this thought from Mark Manson:
Finally, here’s a delightful mantra for doing hard things…
Have a wonderful weekend! xo Amelia
Loved it. Beach coming soon👍❣️
I love that you have an inner Miranda and an inner Andy... I have an inner Fleabag + an inner Claire, always duking it out. As soon as Claire regains control, Fleabag goes rogue.