Perfectionism: A Word Vomit

I am so terrified about not being absolutely amazing at everything I do.

I'm pretty sure I've said that in a previous blog post but I'm too scared to re-read any of them in case I don't love them. Then I'll feel like a useless failure.

And I feel dumb for putting too much pressure on myself about this blog, which I titled "Drafts" in the spirit of the mess and imperfection of stream of consciousness blog posting.

I caught up with a friend over a foodcourt dinner and coffee (iced) and he reminded me that I truly have the skills, ideas, and an imperitive to write.

Nothing I do stems from a place of self-acceptance and self-compassion. I'm usually motivated by fear and obligation and when it comes to... er, life. But with writing, those two things just aren't cutting it anymore.

I run away from writing projects and assignments and I don't feel like there's any real need for me to write. I give into the fear and I lose a sense of obligation.

My friend reminded me that I have a very specific voice and specific perspective that actually makes for compelling writing. Maybe not in these blog posts, but there are things that I want to write about, that will add value into other people's lives.

I want to pull away from the rigidity of perfection on the one hand, and everything else that's trash on the other.

I know how my fear of failure is tied to my childhood anxieties and expereinces, I just don't know how to move passed it.

Just Some Thoughts 004

1. Lately I've been having dreams where I have a romantic partner. They're mostly boyfriends with one girlfriend (one partner per dream, very monogamous). When I wake up, I feel that I've broken up with them and I have to adjust to life without them. Except when I'm awake, the memory of them fades quickly and I begin to miss a blurry impression of a person. I mean, they were never a person to begin with... but still. I'm currently in that glum mode where I wished I had a romantic partner. To lightly brush my back as they walk past me in the kitchen, or greet me with a forehead kiss before launching into talking about the hellish day they've just had. Or someone to caress my hair while I cry about the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that visits me weekly.

2. As I get older, I become less and less concerned with what my tAsTe in music, tv, film and other at pop culture says about me. I used to be so proud or embarrassed about what aligning my interests with certain things communicates to others about who I am. I simply care less (not not at all... yet). The more time spent with obsessing about how my interests shape my identity, the less time spent enjoying/reflecting/analysing/replaying/rereading them.

3. I have a hard time saying no. So I lie and say yes, then disappoint people.