I am a prisoner of perfection, constantly living in fear of not being good enough. It debilitates me. It stops me from being the person that I know I can be. Somewhere along the course of this life I picked up the detrimental notion that not engaging was better than being bad.
I've come to the fierce realization that thirty is young. My capacity to learn is nowhere close to the upper limit. I know that I have to shed this toxic way of thinking or it will kill all of my wild dreams.
When I bottomed out and quit everything, my mom pushed: “No one likes perfect people.” And you know, she is right. Perfect is much too refined. It doesn’t have anything to hold on to. It's unfamiliar. Its alienating. It's that room in the house that no one likes to go in because they have to be too careful.
She continued, “People like helping people.” She lives this theory. My mother is the 'incase of emergency contact' for a huge percentage of people. She wears that badge with honor and I see that so clearly now. She finds her life’s joy in helping others. Perfect people don’t need help and we all need someone to help... we really do.
I’ve found small ways to let perfection go in my everyday. Binge watching Netflix and eating a whole pizza without shame. Falling in a yoga class and not looking to see if anyone noticed. I've stopped wearing makeup when I don’t need to. I’ve found a compassionate place inside me that consoles the ever awful foot-in-mouth feeling.
"Don’t let perfection get in the way of progress." Time, in this sense, is not infinite. Perfect is not so perfect. It gets in the way of what I want. I want progress.
Ok. So why the hell is it so hard to let go of perfection in regard to this project? I am one human with a story to share. That’s all this is. It’s a story that is exploding out of me. It roars when I don’t make time for it. It keeps me up at night. It gives me anxiety when I go a day neglecting it.
Haters are going to hate it. They just are. I’m not scared of that. When you put creative work out into the Universe if no one hates it, that’s a problem. Creative work ignites people and sometimes fire burns shit down.
This fear is all about me. It’s about me not being proud of the work. It's that perfectionism getting in the way. Letting it win for this long has been detrimental to my personal growth. I’ve let years go by ignoring something that burns inside me. How sad is that?
This space now has my permission to be bad. Very bad. All in the name of getting out of my own way. It's the only way to get where I want to go. This is my 'starting somewhere'. I'm starting here.
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