The half-way point

So, I'm a perfectionist. I hate to do things wrong the first time. If I'm going to do something, I'm going to do something right the.first.time. I've been like that since I can remember. When I moved to Mexico at age 9 and was held back because of the difference in academics (how they explained it to me was that being held back into 3rd grade was really like going into 4th grade), I decided that I was NOT going to act held back, so I became an over achiever. I did all the homework first and well. Obviously, that first year was tough, as I did not speak, nor read or write, in Spanish, but once I hit 4th grade, I was at the top of my class, and of course, the Mexicans hated me because I made them look bad. In 5th grade, I switched schools and people were much nicer. Since I was at the head of my class there too, I had the privilage of holding the Mexican flag (along with two other girls) during one of the important ceremonies. I felt good. So when I came *back* to Portland for the rest of the half of 5th grade, I had the same mentality. I had lost three weeks of school for one, but had missed 4 months of American-English PPS so I was behind. But I didn't let that bother me. I ended up doing ALL the school years' homework in a short 4 months. Again, the kids did not like this. I'm sure they thought this "Mexican" was making them look bad too. So that's how I lead my life: as a perfectionist. If I got a problem wrong, I'd work hard until I figured out how to get it right. I never cheated because I felt it was AND I really wanted to know how to get the answer. This later turned into NEVER getting anything wrong, I couldn't have it. I think as I got older, the sense of control and power that comes with "getting things right the first time" began to consume me until I did NOT allow myself to get anything wrong . . . ever. My friendships had to be perfect, my body had to be perfect, my life had to be perfect, my boy friend (at the time) had to be perfect, I had to be perfect . . . all on the first try. No matter how many times my brother told me "You think Jimi Hendrix picked up the and was sweet on the first time?" (and yes, I do believe he was "sweet" on the first time,) I didn't believe it. I thought, *I* had to be perfect on the FIRST time.
So, my world got put on its head about 5 months ago. Things that I thought were true, were not. Things I thought would happen, did not. They way my perfect life was going to turn out, did not. This all made me do a lot of thinking. What if I allowed myself to make mistakes, to just try and see what happens, to even if I'm not good or right "the first time" I allowed myself to continue forth, because I liked it. What if. . .
So that I've been doing, with a lot in my life. There have been many changes going on, but they are lurking under the surface of what you see on the outside. Sure, I don't wear as much black, and my hair is shorter now, but that's just the tip of the ice berg of what's going on inside. I think sometimes I don't give myself enough credit for what *is* actually going on. I get down on myself for not already having this "perfect" life I envisioned (on the first try), or the Oscar I thought I'd win, or the movie I thought I'd direct, or heck, the children I thought I'd have by now.
So now, comes the cleanse. This is my first time. I've done a "detox" but that honestly, did not work. I'm not even sure if this one is working, but I've finally have lost a bit more weight than the first few days and I'm starting to feel the symptoms that they were talking about in the book: I'm tasting things even though I've eaten NOTHING. Apparently, its the toxins that are coming out. But one thing I learned by mistake or well, more like trial and error, is that I really should take the salt water flush at night and my tea in the morning. I took the tea at night two days in a row and barely slept. My tummy was all crampy and I had to head to the bathroom more than once, and I need my sleep! So, if I had not tried the tea at night, I would not have known I shouldn't do it.
And that, ladies and gentleman, is the moral of my story. I have to not be afraid to fail. I can try, make a mistake and still go for it. I can try and get it "right" on the first time, but not have it consume me or get it "right" on the third and forth time. I'm at my half way point and I'm feeling pretty good. I'm a little tired (but I attribute that to the early morning wake up calls) but I've not felt this all consuming need to eat. I just feel calm about food. But one thing I did learn is: I miss cooking.