Goldilocks had Perfectionism Issues…

Goldilocks - Leonard Leslie BrookeLeonard Leslie Brooke


Recently I’ve been catching up on one of my favourite TV series – Once Upon a Time.

It’s an entertaining show for many reasons.

The writers are having fun writing the scripts and storylines, and the actors seem to be having fun playing with what they have been given. Delving into things that fairy tales are made of and twisting them around, relating them to reality in a way which is intriguing and insightful.

Happy endings… has become synonymous with what spurs the darkest heart to even greater darkness, what makes a villain strong and what makes a hero weak – perhaps even turning the greatest good into the greatest evil. When good turns to evil for the sake of a happy ending… it still sees itself as good. Evil is a bit less delusional (not by much), even when it is chasing illusions.

That’s probably just my take on it, but I wonder… as those who write the show wonder, share their wondering and prompt me to wonder.

It likes to turn those fairytales, legends, myths, and Disney cartoons on their head. That’s something which hits a sweet spot for me, as I like to flip things around and explore the flip side of the conventional side.

Goldilocks… I can’t recall if Once Upon a Time has dealt with this story. One character did refer to it sarcastically, but… oh, memory! How memory works and doesn’t work! Either way, it causes all sorts of problems!


He’s giving me a look like I’m Goldilocks, ate his porridge, broke his chair, slept in his bed, and now it’s payback time.”
― Charles de Lint


Goldilocks and her quandary…

That particular tale was one which created a bond between me and my mother early on in my life. My mother and I weren’t of the bonding sort, especially not with each other, so this was novel.

To put this into perspective…

My mother was not a strong influence in my life when I was a baby because she was physically not there. She was ill due to giving birth to me (my existence literally made her physically sick), and therefore others stepped into the breach. She also had one of those moments of not wanting me after I arrived (she told me this on many an occasion, just in case I didn’t hear it loud and clear the first time, so that I would, I guess, be grateful that she put up with me… or something like that).

This sort of thing happens. We want something so badly, may go to extremes to get it, and then when we get it… we don’t want it because it’s not exactly what we thought it would be when we were dreaming about it. The magic came at a price… which we thought we could avoid paying because we were different and special and not like everyone else.

I was handed off to others for my care, and later taken back and found to be flawed because of what those others who had cared for me had done to me. Like feeding me when I was hungry – this made me ‘fat’, which apparently was a ‘bad’ thing. Or paying attention to me when I cried – this made me needy and expectant to have my needs met when I cried, it also made me a ‘cry baby’ which was a bad thing for a baby to be as my crying was annoying to my mother for many reasons, some of which were issues she had about herself when she was a baby.

To put it simply, I was not ‘just right’. I was too hot, too cold, too hard, too soft, too high too low, too wahtever which was never good enough.

And never would be, as ‘just right’ for my mother was a quest never to be reached, but to always be pursued by her and by all those whom she came across in her life as a Goldilocks.

Bears… U R doing it wrong.


illustration by Carol RosettiCarol Rosetti via Buzzfeed

This is just one of those coincidences… these illustrations are genius… this particular Ursula doesn’t like make up, but also doesn’t need someone else to give me ‘permission’ about being the boss of my face. Then again ‘Ursula’ is just my nickname due to me being a bit like a bear.


This theme of Goldilocks and the Bears played out for the rest of our relationship, with my mother playing the part of Goldilocks who was very finicky, picky, and in pursuit of perfection (according to her), of an ideal which to her was a blissful dream, but to me (as all the bears) became a frigging nightmare.

That she was a burglar and breaker in of someone else’s home… yeah… Goldilocks didn’t really consider her part in the whole, at least not in my mother’s version of the tale, and always saw herself, and was written up, as the hero in search of a happily ever after for herself (always impeded by the imperfections of others which ruined everything for her).

Ah… the happily ever after of others who see you as the others and everything goes tits and arse up from there.


Fernwehmore genius via Buzzfeed


There was a period in my childhood when my mother told me the tale of Goldilocks every night. Each time she told it, it was different – she did not use a book from which she read, she used her imagination of a story she had once read and now owned.

Each time she told it, the only consistent element was that she was Goldilocks.

If I was anyone in it, it was the bowl of porridge which was too hot or too cold, or the chair which was too high or too low, or the bed which was too hard or too soft. Or maybe the bears (but she wasn’t the one who gave me the nickname, if she had been, I would not be using it). She added other extras of too this or too that which were never just right. I was always one or the other or both, but never that elusive just right.

The goal for me, as I came to understand it, was to be the thing which was just right for Goldilocks – what I didn’t understand at the time was that this goal was impossible to achieve. Goldilocks, in reality, would never be satisfied with anything or anyone.

That’s a perfectionist for you!


her own little fairytale


I realised that much later in life, that ‘just right’ was not meant to be, once the damage was done.

Some of this damage has, at least according to me, become a blessing in disguise of a curse of sorts.

I run away from just right when I see it as though it was a plague, especially when that just right is one created by others and those others want it from me.

Personally, I don’t really have a just right, I have a that’ll do and let’s see what happens.

Some people consider that ‘settling’ for something that isn’t good enough for you, for them, is the ultimate villainy of life. They’re ‘just righters’ and nothing and no one is every good enough for their ‘just righteousness’.

I don’t know what’s right for you, I only know what’s okay with me. I want to land and feel my feet touch ground before my fuel runs out and I crash.


that's not going to happen


When I’m faced with a decision these days, I’m not after what is ‘just right’ for me in the role of Goldilocks. I don’t want to be Goldilocks, she disrespected the Bears’ home and the Bears, she had her reasons, and then ran away… before benefiting from the facing the consequences.

That’s her problem and dream ideal of perfect. Not mine. As far as a bowl of porridge and chair and bed is concerned, I can accept what is here, now, and offering itself as an option, and I prefer to be invited rather than forcing my way in.

Then see what happens from there.

Which actually makes… making decisions a bit of a nightmare because every option has pros and cons and possibilities within each pro and con which is both good and bad and all the shades in between. And may depend on others and respecting their say in the matter.

Let’s just say… I’m not particularly adept at deciding and choosing, and prefer it when I pick at random and just go with the adventure which unfolds from that choice. The consequences are wizards of teaching life lessons and… whatever. Learning is a learning curve. Sometimes someone else is drawing the line.


Churchill says stuff...


Regrets… part of it all. Those wonderful imperfections which make the imperfect look rather lovely, especially if compared to (that rigid prison of) perfection.

Not the most practical or popular way to go in a world which sees idealism and perfectionism, and the pursuit of it, as a sign of someone being ‘just right’.

Eff it, I’m a mess… and that’s my just right, if I have one.

Beware of those who are ‘just right’ in a perfect ideal kind of way, or who are focused on finding what or who is ‘just right’ in a perfect kind of way for them… nothing and no one is ever good enough for them.

Or so my version of the Goldilocks’ syndrome goes… they can’t handle being ‘wrong’, will seek out every flaw in you and others and things (and worse still, they see that in themselves and make others pay for it)… and a fail is the most likely ending.

And if you’re a Goldilocks… be aware that you may not be able to handle it when your just right is embodied by another person… when your Mr. or Miss Right lets you down by not living up to your high ideals. The fairytale falls apart and the pain that causes may make your happily ever after an elusive good which may make you a bit evil which is convinced that every evil it commits is for the good of the world. You ‘just right’ becomes a never-ending nightmare for you and for all.

That’ll do… let’s see what happens


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