When perfection gets in the way of presence
Have you ever wanted to do something brave, but you talked yourself out of it?
I did that for years, until recently.
This is the story of how I finally said yes, what it taught me about grief and joy, and the little winks that showed up along the way.
I’ve always loved storytelling.
The Moth is one of my favorite radio shows, and I can get lost for hours in long, meandering conversations with friends, swapping stories around a campfire or on a walk.
Here in Athens, we have a local nonprofit called Rabbit Box Storytelling that hosts monthly events at our VFW. I started attending during the pandemic, when chairs were spaced six feet apart and smiling eyes twinkled above masks.
I usually went alone, soaking in the humor, wisdom, and heart of people brave enough to step up to a mic with no notes and speak from their heart.
Each time, a little voice whispered, You could do that someday.
And almost immediately, another voice replied, You’d be too nervous. You’d mess it up. What would you even say that people would care about?
So I kept sitting in the back, content to just listen.
That One Friend
At the September event, they announced the October theme: “That One Friend.”
Instantly, I thought of my dear friend Tim, who passed away in June. (You may remember the blog I wrote about him!) I could fill an evening with stories about his mischievous grin, his big-hearted humor, and the way his friendship changed my life.
Still, I didn’t sign up.
A few weeks later, at a baby shower (after one too many mimosas), I told my friend Brittany, who is on Rabbit Box’s board, how much I loved the theme. She mentioned there were still open storyteller spots.
I blurted out, “Okay, I’ll do it!”
A few days later, she texted to ask if I had signed up yet.
I hadn’t. But with her encouragement and that small, brave voice inside me, I finally did.
The pressure to be perfect
Once I said yes, the perfectionist in me took over.
I wrote and rewrote my story, filled index cards, and walked loops around the park practicing aloud. I wanted to get every word just right. I practiced telling the story to friends and family members (thank you to Shan, Sarah, Mom, Dad, and Robyn!).
Two days before the event, I realized what was really happening.
I was trying to make the story perfect because part of me felt guilty.
I hadn’t seen Tim one last time before he died, and I didn’t speak at his Celebration of Life.
Maybe if I told the story flawlessly, it would make up for that.
Maybe it would make my sadness smaller.
But no amount of perfection can bring someone back.
And honestly, Tim would have hated the idea of me clinging to a rigid script.
When my friend David asked, “How would Tim want you to be with it?” I knew the answer immediately.
Tim loved imperfection. He thought mistakes made the best stories.
A little wink from the universe
So I changed my prep.
I made a soulful, funky playlist, opened a mini bottle of champagne, and let myself have fun.
And of course one of Tim’s favorite songs came on right away in confirmation.
The day of the event, I noticed white vans everywhere, the same kind as our flower delivery van when we worked at the flower shop together.
It felt like a wink from the universe.
Last night, I told my story. My “Tim Talk.”
I was nervous, but it went beautifully, joyful and a little messy, just like Tim.
I carried his photo in my bag and a small light catcher in my sweater pocket, the one I bought the day of his Celebration of Life.
When the timekeeper flashed the “2 minutes left” sign, I panicked a little and skipped forward to the end, missing the part where I shared that Tim had passed away.
After my story, strangers came up to me to thank me for introducing them to Tim. One person said, "The way you told the story made me feel like I knew him." ❤️
It made my heart so happy to hear that.
In a way, it was perfect
Before the event, I had imagined Tim standing at the back of the room, smiling and cheering me on.
His legacy of presence, mischief, and laughter lives on, and with the state of the world right now, we can use all of that we can get.
One of my favorite moments of the night came when we dared my friend Matt to put his name in a hat to be chosen as an impromptu storyteller.
Of course, he got picked, and he totally nailed it. And it felt very "Tim-esque" to take a big-hearted, bold, risk like that.
Seeing my friends Brittany M, Christian, Jess, Brittany B, Matt, and Scott in the audience reminded me what Tim’s life was all about: joy and connection.
The story was recorded and will be posted on YouTube - I'll share it with you when I get the link!
A few reflections for you
Where might you be trying to avoid a feeling by striving to be perfect?
What is it costing you to not feel what's really there?
How could you make space to feel it, with compassion, either on your own or with someone you trust? (I love using an emotions wheel to help identify what I'm feeling!)
I’d love to know what this sparks for you.
Just hit reply, it would make my heart happy to hear from you.
With love and gratitude,
Stacy
P.S. I’ve been thinking a lot about how much courage it takes to show up fully, in storytelling, leadership, and life. If you are craving more presence and ease in how you lead or live, I’d love to explore that with you.
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