A lot of people assume that because I’m a sex therapist, I have this perfect, pleasure-filled, almost hedonistic lifestyle. That I just float from moment to moment in a constant state of bliss.

While I’m a pretty darn happy person overall, it doesn’t mean I’ve got everything figured out.

I’m a reformed type-A personality. I spent most of my life being a walking stereotype of a perfectionist. Stressed out, harried, anxious, mind going a million miles an hour.

It has taken me a long time to learn how to slow down, stop obsessing over perfection, and pay more attention to what I want rather than what I think other people want me to want.

And while I have learned a lot about prioritizing my own desires and infusing pleasure into my life, I am often guilty of forgetting my own lessons and slipping back to old habits.

I got a fantastic reminder of that this weekend.

I was traveling with my husband, and we realized that we were close to a restaurant that we had gone to almost a year ago. This restaurant had the most incredible soup I’ve ever eaten. I have been dreaming of this soup ever since I’d last had it.

In other words – there was no question about it. We were going back to that restaurant.

We drove to the restaurant with visions of soup swirling in my head. I anxiously wondered if the restaurant would be too busy to seat us. I fretted about the possibility of the soup not being as good as last time. I worried about whether or not we’d be able to bring leftovers home since we were going to a movie right after dinner.

We finally got to the restaurant, got seated relatively quickly, and placed our order. About 15 agonizing minutes later, there it was in front of me. This bowl of soup that I had been dreaming about. I picked up my spoon and attacked…

I came to about five minutes later. It was like a fog had lifted. I realized that I had been shoveling this soup into my mouth like the world was about to end. The bowl was halfway gone.

And I hadn’t even really been enjoying it.

I’d been anticipating this moment for so long, but I was rushing it. And in that rushing, I’d lost the joy of the experience.

Sure, the soup still tasted good, but it wasn’t like that first time. A year ago, I’d been so surprised by how tasty it was that I took my time and enjoyed every single bite.

I put my spoon down, closed my eyes, and took a slow, deep breath. “Savor this!” I told myself.

So I spent a second just looking at the soup. I gazed at the different colors and textures in my bowl. I watched the steam rise off the surface. I lowered my head down and took a nice big whiff, teasing out the different aromas. Then I carefully picked up my spoon again and got a small sip of broth. I let the flavors wash over every part of mouth. I spooned up a vegetable and chewed it slowly, feeling it actually break down and release different flavors.

It was delicious.

I laughed at myself a little, and gently reminded myself that life is so much better when I make a conscious effort to slow down.

I think this is a lesson that so many of us need to constantly learn and relearn. It’s unbelievably easy to get wrapped up in the chaos of life, and zoom through everything in anxiety-inducing autopilot mode.

Speeding through life makes the painful and stressful moments even worse, but it also robs us of the pleasure and enjoyment of the good moments. It makes everything feel bland, boring, uninspiring, and blah.

Seriously, take a second right now to think of the last fun or kind thing you did for yourself. Did you actually enjoy it? Or did you rush through it?

Did you spend your entire yoga class stressing out about a work project? Were you so worried about your masseuse going over time that you hardly even felt the massage?

Or think about the last time someone else tried to do something for you.

Were you so distracted by the dirty dishes that you didn’t actually hear your daughter reciting the poem she wrote for you? Were you totally zoned out when your husband tried to tell you how sexy you looked?

Entire books have been written on this topic, but the simplest piece of advice I can give you is to take the time to slow down and savor.

Savor all of the funny, pleasurable, beautiful, weird, wonderful, awe-inspiring, breath-taking – and tasty! – moments life presents to you on a daily basis.

And if you want a good soup recommendation, let me know…