“My mother used to iron the rags!”

“My mother used to iron the rags!” my friend sobbed.  “I wanted so much to help her be free of that burden . . . but she kept doing it almost til the day she died.”

Perfectionists and recovering perfectionists out there, what’s your version of “ironing the rags?”  What’s it look like when you’re trying to keep your world in the “just so” box?

I have a brilliantly clear memory of myself as a newlywed, getting a load of clean laundry out of the dryer and going absolutely berserk because there was white lint on the dark brown towels.

When I was married with two teenagers I lived in a house with off-white wall-to-wall carpeting.  I remember countless times walking into the living room after work and before I’d even put down my bundles, I’d be picking bits of leaves and grass and string off the carpet.

My off-the-chart obsessiveness about cleanliness and organization held me prisoner for a long time, never allowing me to completely relax. I had chosen to believe a story about myself that declared, “As long as you keep your house, yourself, your relationships, your finances neat and tidy, you’ll be in control.  You’ll avoid messy surprises.”

Of course, another aspect of this story is that working so hard to maintain predictability in all realms of life can drive you nuts!  It’s unbelievably stressful and exhausting . . . and it’s impossible.

Holding on to your expectations — about the rags being wrinkle-free or your house being spotless or your marriage always being harmonious — is definitely a choice you can make.

I wonder, though, if there’s another more spacious and loving story you might want to start exploring for yourself.  Right now.  Before you die and leave your loved ones a full drawer of perfectly ironed rags.