I used to think that unfinished work was just a sign of procrastination and laziness. Now I realize that it is often the adverse effect of perfectionism. "I can't do this perfectly, so I just won't do it at all." To some degree I believe this is learned behavior and difficult to overcome.
When I find an unfinished project stuffed away in the closet or drawer, I end up spending the rest of the day reflecting upon what it was suppose to be, why it is not finished and who's fault is it that it is left undone. I got too busy; I got bored; I didn't think it was worthwhile any longer; I ran out of money; I didn't have the right tools; I can't find all the pieces; it just didn't matter anymore. But it did matter; that's why the remains can still be found amidst my clutter.
Sometimes I am able to resurrect a project. I can resurrect it because I now know how; I now have the patience and understanding; I can now see the beauty in the flaws; I now see the perfection in its disarray. Maybe it was finished?
I grew up with my maternal grandmother's painting of my mother, as a child. I was in awe of this work; it was my mother in every aspect. While my mother displayed the portrait, she also was quick to point out that it was never finished; insinuating that it was not perfect. Was my mother pointing out my grandmother's failure to complete the project as grandmother's problem? Or, was my mother simply hurt that her mother did not return to complete the canvass? Did not sign it? Did not finish it - her?
My unfinished projects are a wonderful collection of my many moods and a snapshot of what I was living and experiencing at the time. My mother never told me if the portrait was painted when she was that child or if my grandmother painted years later. I like to think that it was "never finished" because my mother never lost that "child" we see in the painting. Dolly never grew out of that mind set.
Maybe my grandmother knew that; maybe that's why she didn't finish it? In reality, it is finished. And, it's perfect.
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That's it exactly. It is rooted in perfectionism and is near impossible to overcome. I live with this every day of my life. It is the dark cloud hanging over my head. I'm thrilled to hear someone else talk about it because my mother thinks I'm nuts and lazy. You have given me validation.
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