#perfectionism
I have had writer’s block from hell lately, largely because I’ve been too attached to getting everything right.
This blog was easier to write when I posted every day, because it meant that I didn’t get trapped in perfectionism-driven writer’s block. I just wrote things that were as good as I could make them in the time I had available, then posted them, then posted more things.
Now that I don’t post every day anymore, my posts tend to get indefinitely delayed. Nothing I write lately feels good enough to post, and I want to just keep working on things until they feel done — but the thing is, there is *always* room to improve posts. Wanting to wait for things to be better isn’t resulting in better posts, it’s resulting in *no* posts.
So, I’m trying to keep in mind what I know: If I want to write good posts, I have to *actually finish posts*. Waiting for posts to be better will not get them written; being willing to write them will get them written. And if I write some bad posts along the way, that’s a step towards writing the posts I want to be writing long-term. Silence will not help.
With that in mind, I’m planning to post every day between now and Friday. I will most likely hate most if not all of this week’s posts, but they will be written and they are a step towards getting my blog voice back.
I want to look perfect… please transform me!
With the power of the moon…✨
I want to tell perfectionists here about a really handy tool to deal with low self esteem, especially with seasonal depression. Since its the end of the year and you’re probably feeling really down about yourself and future goals, it helps to build confidence by doing this. You write a list of every single thing you’ve done or achieved that you’re happy you did. Example: “Made best friend an awesome gift this January that she loved”. Or “Took out dog today."
The more you do it the more successful and less depressed about your flaws you feel. Hope this helped!
Reminder too stop putting so much pressure on yourself. You are human and you can only do so much in one day.
“Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to be your best. Perfectionism is not about healthy achievement and growth. Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgment, and shame. It’s a shield. Perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us when, in fact, it’s the thing that’s really preventing us from taking flight. Perfectionism is not self-improvement. Perfectionism is, at its core, about trying to earn approval and acceptance”— Brené Brown. “The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are”.
My obsession with being successful at the youngest age is gonna be the death of me
Some ADHDers, like me, end up being perfectionists as a way to cope with our symptoms. But sometimes the anxiety of making mistakes becomes so big we can stop doing things, even if we love it, just because the fear.
I think whoever said to never half ass things didn’t know neurodivergent people, because it was this kind of message that kept me away from trying to do anything. Being perfect, trying for something to be perfect, means it has to be done and there’s no room for mistakes. Why would I try to exercise once a week when the ideal is five days a week? Better not to do it.
When I realised that I was allowed to make mistakes, I was allowed to not finish something and not doing it perfectly, suddenly there were SO many possibilities in front of me. I was exercising, cleaning, cooking, they didn’t need to be perfect, they just had to make me happy. The same applies to this account, I wanted to share my experiences with other people so they could feel seen, but if I kept striving for perfection I wouldn’t be here at all. I’m still in recovery from perfectionism, but I still try to choose a half ass task over a perfect one :)
Your success doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. If your dream is to work at a grocery store and make enough to pursue your hobbies that’s perfect. If your dream is to go to college and get a degree in a field you love and work in it that’s perfect. If you want to follow a trade and learn a skill that carries you through life that’s perfect. If you want none of the above or all, that’s perfect too. What makes you feel content is enough.
What shall I show and what shall I be
Split in different pieces of me
My very essence reduced to a fevery dream
About how my antics might just seem
Blooming from childish fantasies
On how I give and smile and please
With recognition as a given
For a life that’s worth living
What shall I say and what shall I do
Spiteful tongues give me a clue
My castle narrowed down to one single room
I avoid the mirror as I start to groom
My hair, my attire, my every step
Caught up unwinding an unyielding web
I push and pull, I scream and shout
But my secret struggle won’t ever come out.
I have just come to the conclusion that no matter how hard I try, it just isn’t enough.
I am not enough.
Life ain’t worth living unless one is perfect.
That is why all must seek perfection because life ain’t worth shit unless you are consistent flawless in all areas.
looking into a heart-shaped mirror,
seeing ringlets and lace and long long lashes, thinking.
thinking,I’m the prettiest doll
that I’m ever going to be.
my doll-house is where I keep my victories.
over-achiever, people-pleaser;
I spend all my time
before some kind of mirror –
it’s easier to believe you’re a pleasure to teach
when you’re a pleasure to see.
I wonder,
just how long
before my china shoulders shatter?
I won’t be fuckable forever.
what if I end up as a grave
that no stranger will never admire?
go at your own pace,
says the old woman
who lives in my head.
she rocks, on a rocking chair;
I rock with her, try and listen
when she says, calm down.
you have so many years ahead of you.
open my jewellery box. a thousand baubles
for a hundred achievements –
and which one of them is enough?
flowers blossom beautifully and die quickly:
maybe I’m done. maybe my season’s up.
choker of pearls. aren’t you a pretty girl?
I’m not so special as they said,
and my luck will not forever last –
I’ll fail, soon. and I’d rather be dead.
we are rocking, still. harder, now:
my nails bite into my calves.
my breathing is shallow, sharp:
a sad stream, shuddering through
a Winter wall of jagged rocks.
fall, my old woman suggests, voice soft
like a skipping stone. cry. I’ll catch you.
I don’t.
‘I wrote this instead,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1259