ANGELICA G WRITES

“Well…. I´m just a perfectionist hehe!” is an expression that sort of makes me cringe. I used to (and still do) hear people proudly describe themselves in this manner, as if it’s something to be celebrated. Too be honest, I’ve probably taken pride in it myself once or twice in the past. But since working hard to better understand and manage my own perfectionism, I’d never boast about it again. Don’t get me wrong, there are some wonderful positives that come with this attribute, but celebrating it as if it’s somehow a heavenly blessing, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. I’m learning to make peace with the perfectionist in me and to hone the part of it that serves me, whilst dimming down the part of it that is debilitating. “Perfectionism is just fear in high heels” said Elizabeth Gilbert, and I couldn’t agree more. When not taken care of and seen for what it truly is, perfectionism can and does, ruin me. I realize this might sound a little dramatic, so let me fill you in.

Last Saturday I was super excited to be cooking a brand new dish for my boyfriend and I from one of my favorite online recipe blogs, Pinch of Yum. I was in the mood to try a new pasta recipe, so when this Pumpkin Rigatoni with Rosemary Walnut Crispies caught my eye, I was thrilled. I get really pumped about trying out new recipes, and when time permits, I love to make a whole day out of it. And so I wrote down the ingredients I needed to buy, strolled over to the supermarket and bought what I needed. There’s something about trying out a new recipe that makes me a little careless with my spending. I want to get only the highest quality ingredients and really make it a true restaurant quality experience. So I bought the cool mozzarella cheese brand instead of the home-brand, and a fancy shmancy bottle of wine to accompany what was going to be a superb dish. I arrived home, put all the groceries away, and anticipated dinner time. During the wait, I re-read the recipe a couple times and did all the conversions from the US imperial system to the metric system, and even watched the video of how to make it, twice. Now, I know that any rational mind would understand that when trying something new for the first time, there is always a very good chance that it won’t be great or ideal, and that it’s totally fine, normal even, if things don’t work out. But when perfectionism takes over, this very rational concept is thrown out the window.

Things started out well, Spotify cooking playlist turned on, wine in hand, all chopping and prepping complete. When it came to the Rosemary Walnut Crispies part of the recipe (which by the way I consider to be the most important part of the dish as it’s what gives the dish a unique flavor kick and crunch and it’s also in the name of the dish) shit hit the fucking fan. The walnuts were to be crushed and then lightly toasted in the oven until they turned a golden brown. For me however, on this unfortunate evening, they turned a lovely charcoal black. As soon as I sensed the burning smell and saw what I had done, my heart sank to the bottom of the earth. “You moron, how could you do this? How could you be so careless and idiotic? All you had to do was keep an eye on them! You’re so stupid”. I let a little shriek out and my boyfriend came running into the kitchen. My boyfriend, bless his soul, who is not a novice to the devastating look of a perfectionist, instantly tried to reassure me and tell me it was no big deal. Deep inside I knew this wasn’t the end of the world, and that it wasn’t worth ruining a perfectly good evening for, but it feels almost impossible to convince myself of this at the time. I sat down on the couch in a slump, like a defeated fighter, and asked my boyfriend to order a packet of walnuts on a food delivery app, it was too late to go to the supermarket due to the Covid lockdown curfew. He thought I was being ridiculous, but ordered it anyway, just so I wouldn’t moan about it for the rest of the night. We sat and waited for the delivery. I felt pathetic. After about 20 minutes, we received a notification that the delivery was cancelled because the store was in fact shut. I saw this as an opportunity for me to go back to my burnt walnuts and deal with the issue like a boss. It was either that or ruin the whole evening for myself and my boyfriend, and end up eating crackers and cheese for dinner. I saw the look on my boyfriend’s face, the look of someone who doesn’t deserve such a pain in the ass for a girlfriend. So I got up, and faced the music.

There was simply no way to salvage the walnuts. My boyfriend suggested having no walnuts, but I had already prepared the buttery sweet rosemary sauce that was to be later mixed with the toasted walnuts to create a delicious crumble to go on top of the pasta. Without this topping, we would just have plain pumpkin pasta, no can do friends. I found an open packet of hazelnuts in the back of my pantry, so I decided to toast them (to a golden brown this time) and use them instead of the walnuts. If you know and appreciate flavor combinations, you’d know that walnuts and pumpkin are a match made in heaven, hazelnuts and pumpkin however, ehh not so much. But I went with it, and it really took every cell in my body to just go with it. To just accept that things didn’t go to plan, and to keep my spirits high and enjoy the rest of the night, whether the dish was delicious or awful. We had dinner, I didn’t love the hazelnuts, but the earth kept spinning.

The whole time, I knew that the perfectionist was taking over me, I’ve become better aware of it now, but it still frequently (although less frequently) creeps up and takes hold. I wish I was the type of person that had seen those burnt walnuts, laughed about it, thrown them out and carried on enjoying the evening. I have always wished to be that person.

So that’s a fine example of when perfectionism is a heavy killer of joy. Other times, it has helped me land a great job, perform really well in various professional tasks, admit a friend into hospital at the right time, and organize a whole lot of shit, well. I’m trying, trying to be calm, grounded, forgiving and compassionate towards myself more than I am critical, harsh and brutal. I’m trying to give less fucks about petty things like burnt walnuts, so that I can save my precious energy for the bigger things that really do matter. Because truthfully, shit is going to hit the fan often, and I would really like to be a friend to myself the next time the walnuts burn to their core.