Get Past Perfect and Rise Up Real.

Did you know that certain Native American artisans weave small, purposeful mistakes into their blankets?

These master craftspeople include intentional slip-ups in their best work. But why?

Because they believe that the “mistake” is the very space that allows Spirit to move in and out of the fabric.

Take a moment and let that sink in. Then ask yourself …

What if the mistakes you wish you hadn’t made could be openings for Spirit in your life?

If that question freaks you out a little, I understand.

I’m Caroline Garnet McGraw, and I’m a recovering perfectionist. (And workaholic and codependent and people-pleaser. You know, just the usual.)

I’ve spent most of my life in abject terror of making mistakes. But in 2011, I started this blog as an account of the journey to get past perfect and rise up real.

A Wish Come Clear is about the lifelong odyssey that we take to come home to ourselves and each other.

Join us! Receive your free Perfectionist Recovery Toolkit.

The Toolkit includes Getting Real & Letting Go: A Collection of Quotes for Recovering Perfectionists, the 5 Day Goodbye Good Girl Email Challenge, posters, & more! You’ll also get posts via email.

past perfect Enter Your Email

Solemn No Spam Vow: I promise never to share your email with anyone else.

Let’s Be Brave and Talk About Race: Interview with Krystle Cobran

My church friend and I were only about 7 years old when she leaned over in my ear and whispered, “Sometimes black people are so … scary.”

We were standing in the hallway of the rented central New Jersey auditorium where we had church services. It was a diverse congregation – much more so than my suburban neighborhood – and a bunch of black kids had run by us, laughing and shouting, raucous in play.

It was the start of my first conversation about race. I can still remember the shock of that moment, the twist in my stomach at the word “scary”.

Continue reading

Breakthrough to Purpose

Stop Feeling Stuck and Start Trusting Yourself

Every time I start feeling stuck and unsure, I remember a woman I’ve never met.

Her name was Te-lah-nay, a Native American woman displaced during the Trail of Tears. She was forced to march from her home in Alabama all the way to Oklahoma. 500 miles, minimum.

Continue reading

flame

I Was Brave, I Resisted, I Set Myself on Fire

I had my first panic attack in the first grade, when my teacher returned my paper with “See Me” written in red ink.

Getting a “See Me” meant lining up by the teacher’s desk and waiting to talk to her privately … in front of everyone.

I’d always had “Excellent” on my papers before, and I thought a “See Me” meant that I’d screwed up.

At six years old, I couldn’t handle that. When I walked to the front of the room, my breath came in short, fast gulps.

Continue reading