I’m sorry for the lack of posts recently as we have had no submissions and I haven’t seen a lot of relevant things to post for you all.

I just wanted to remind all our followers that this blog is here to help and provide support in any way possible! I hope you all had the best christmas and new year, and continue to have an amazing 2015. Let perfectionism motivate you, but not control or hinder you.

~Kaylee~

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!

Got my first 4.95/5 on my second attempt of A&P 1 Chapter 6 homework. It’s not that big a deal. Would of been perfect score if I would of just slowed down for a minute. Ugh. Fml.

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

Me when my art isn’t absolutely perfect:

The perfectionist urge to rip out your hair and claw at your arms and take your nails down the wall and wail and scream and cry and throw up and explode and pop anytime the idea on paper does not match the one in your brain.