The Truth Is I Didn’t Want To Write This Post

I wanted to forget my idea to start talking openly about my struggles and their solutions.

I wanted to sweep it nicely under the well-used metaphorical rug, as just another one of my crazy ideas which I’ll soon forget about. 

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(In fact, I still don’t want to write this as I’m doing it).

However my loving husband made me realize in doing that, I was doing exactly what I had just said to him I didn’t want to do.

I didn’t want to be the kind of person who buried their head in the sand. Or someone who played the victim of “having too many ideas and not knowing where to start”.

My husband is such a doer, he gets an idea and runs with it. Every time I ask him what he’s up to it’s something new, and he’s already scheduled it into his weekly Google planner.

Whether it’s meditating, coding, learning Chinese or working on his business, he always finds the time, passion and energy to do it. It’s one of many things I love about him.

But it doesn’t half make me feel unproductive sometimes.

For me, it doesn’t quite work like that. (Well, at least not up until now). I would always say I have to feel: “inspired”. Maybe it’s the artist in me which has let me get away with saying that, and not stepping out for so long.

Some of my other favourites are: “It’s not the right time” ; “it’s too late to start a project now” and “I need to do more research before I begin, I can’t just start”. They are all excuses.

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What I’m really trying to say is *deep breath* …  I’m a perfectionist.

(I know, my closest friends and family are definitely not gasping in shock).

But here’s the second bombshell … I’m an awful procrastinator too. And it’s because I let the fear of something I do, make, or say, not being perfect, paralyze me from even trying.

The worst thing is, is that this perfectionism seeps into every aspect of my life. I try to be the floaty Instagram-Pinterest woman who embraces every up and down in life as equal and necessary.

But in reality, I’m the woman who plans and plans, dreams and dreams and gets frustrated when things don’t play out exactly as I have “perfectly” envisioned.

Sure, from time to time I have those sweet moments where I feel in tune with the universe and ready to embrace whatever happens.

But usually when the “whatever happens” actually happens, I don’t find myself standing with arms wide open. I find myself anxious and stressed.  Then annoyed at myself for falling into the perfectionism trap yet again.

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Everything from cooking a new meal, to being a wife, a daughter, and a friend, is invaded by this chronic perfectionism.

Yet somehow I am able to understand when a loved one is hurtful to me. We talk, we get over it. But should it be me that has upset someone, well, I just can’t seem to let it go.

I hold myself to such a high standard, it’s basically impossible to feel enough or adequate in anything for very long. I often wonder where this came from.

Maybe it’s just my personality, my tendency to analyse. Maybe it’s from being an only child and pressuring myself to try to be the absolute best in everything.

Maybe it was during school when I was so used to getting straight A’s and then the real-world happened, and I realized how much self-worth I had attached to that.

Maybe it’s a bit of all those and some others I haven’t even thought of.

But I do think there’s something to the school theory …

I was good at school. I had studying down. And I actually enjoyed it — being the big nerd I am.

But the processes of school don’t extrapolate in life very well. Studying and excessive planning doesn’t stand up that big of a fight against life outside of those peeling school walls.

You can’t read 25 books and have being a good wife down; from then on always being the most attentive and devoted partner ever known to mankind.

Just like you can’t take an exam on how to deal with loss, then put it into practice when you lose people in your life. It just doesn’t work like that.

You can only react and interact how you know. And if it goes wrong, you evaluate how to do it better next time.

This makes sense. It’s logic. You try, it didn’t work, you try a different way. It’s the only way we know how to learn.

The problem is even though I know this and say it to myself all.the.time, I still can’t help but think that every time I didn’t get it right first time, it’s failure. I failed.

This perfectionist mentality then negates everything good about myself and everything else I actually did get right that day.

Instead, it instantly makes me a bad friend, partner or daughter. Full stop. No negotiation. I fail to see it’s just me being human, even though I can say that to other people who fall and trip up.

Now I’m not writing all this for a pity party. I’m writing to push myself and *you* into action.

I’ve decided to write about real-life and authentic living, open and honestly.

A “come as you are” blog to find ways of battling out of a perfectionist mindset and sharing whatever knowledge I find.

The takeaway message here is to stop letting this crazy part of your brain rule your life and take the first step towards taking back control. And if you’re interested in doing this with me, reach out and connect.

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Blog 1- Hello!

3 thoughts on “The Truth Is I Didn’t Want To Write This Post

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