My newest mantra over the past few days has been this:
Progress, not perfection.
In September, our family moved to Belgium in search of a slower lifestyle — one that would allow me to homeschool our two autistic children full-time and step away from the relentless pace we had been living.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve operated at full speed. But that pace intensified after my daughter was born ten years ago. She inspired me to hustle harder. When my son arrived two years later, the urgency increased.
I was trying to be everything.
The perfect mom.
The perfect wife.
The quintessential “Donna Reed.”
I wanted a spotless home. Home-cooked meals every night. Meaningful family time. The best educational opportunities. Enrichment. Travel. Experiences. A beautiful life.
At the same time, I was working full-time.
Somewhere along the way, I decided I needed to do it all — flawlessly.
The burnout was real. But the motivation was stronger.
Moving to Belgium: Starting Over
Eventually, my husband was offered a position that allowed me to leave my full-time job. We sold our house, donated and sold most of our belongings, and moved our family to Belgium.
It was a complete reset.
We were blessed to find permanent housing quickly. We settled in. And then something unexpected happened.
I didn’t miss our old life.
But I didn’t know who I was without it.
For the first time in years, I had margin. Time. Space. And instead of feeling free, I felt almost paralyzed.
So I rested.
I allowed myself to take a mental break from the expectations I had placed on myself for nearly a decade.
When the new year began, so did we.
We strengthened our homeschool rhythm.
We established family dinner.
We committed to four nights a week of intentional family time (with Friday as our sleepover tradition).
I created a cleaning routine.
I started working out again.
I built more robust homeschool lessons.
From the outside, everything looked aligned.
But internally, something still felt off.
I felt like I was navigating a ship without a compass.
And then it hit me.
I was still chasing perfection.
The Shift to Progress Over Perfection
It sounds simple now. Almost cliché.
But it wasn’t obvious to me.
I had been measuring success by mastery — in myself and in my children. I was looking for complete transformation instead of sustainable growth.
When I shifted to a progress over perfection mindset, everything changed.
I stopped asking:
“Have we mastered this?”
And started asking:
“What small progress did we make today?”
We began celebrating small wins.
- A calmer homeschool morning.
- One new math skill solidified.
- A room reset instead of a deep clean.
- A hard conversation handled with grace.
We aren’t aiming for a 24/7, eat-off-the-floor clean home.
We’re aiming to clean the floors a little every day.
We aren’t rushing toward advanced calculus.
We’re mastering the skills that previously caused stress.
That difference matters.
Autism Parenting, ARFID, and Redefining Progress
In addition to autism, my son has Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder (ARFID). Feeding challenges are part of our daily reality.
Recently, I started introducing new foods at home in a low-pressure environment. And quietly, I felt the old pressure creeping back in:
“We’re not making progress fast enough.”
But last night, something beautiful happened.
He ate strands of spaghetti from his own bowl at a restaurant.
No pressure. No forcing. No perfection.
Just progress.
It was a powerful reminder that growth in autistic children — in any child — is rarely linear. It is slow. Layered. Sometimes invisible until it suddenly isn’t.
Slow Living, Homeschooling, and Letting Go of Perfection
Our road is long. And it looks different from many others.
But it’s ours.
It is beautiful and heartbreaking. Challenging and impressive.
Choosing progress over perfection has allowed us to:
- Honor neurodivergent needs
- Build sustainable homeschool routines
- Protect our marriage and family time
- Heal from burnout
- Embrace slow living
Perfection demands performance.
Progress allows growth.
And growth — even messy, uneven, hard-earned growth — is enough.