Ugggghhh here we are again… another dreaded “it’s been so long since I’ve written” blog post.
I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve started writing something along those lines, desperately trying to break out of the “funk” of not doing the *THING* I want to be doing. I’ve heard it 100 times, aim for progress over perfection, get the thing started!
No sooner than putting pen to paper, just like that there is a cacophony of unhelpful thoughts and limiting beliefs:
“I can’t do this.”
“Who wants to read this anyway?
“This is scary. Maybe I shouldn’t do it.”
“But if I write about xyz, I need to make sure I also do this, that, and the other thing. UGH! this is too complicated, forget it!”
“What was I thinking starting this?!”
Do you ever feel stuck in this pattern? Or like you get in your own way before anything else can?
This is where I’ve been lately. By lately, I mean pretty much since I started this blog. If I’m being really honest, I mean pretty much my whole life.
I’ve never been one to be interested in perfection. Growing up, I tried to wear my imperfections like a badge of honor; I was perfectly imperfect. Even the idea of perfection made my skin crawl, probably because I felt so far from the definition of the word, and I wanted so badly to see value anyway. Did I though? Did I truly? When I dig down deeper, what is there?
Mentally, I’ve always known that perfection is a myth. Sometimes it can lead us on the right path, but more often it’s the siren drawing us into our doom, allowing us to get distracted from our destination, from what really matters.
So what have I done most of my life when the call of perfection rings? I’ve blocked my ears. Noticing the nagging thoughts, I’ve tried to brush them off, ignoring them, not realizing that this gave them even more power and persistence.
Despite mentally shunning the thought of perfection, the desire for it found a way to creep back in. Ignoring it, laughing it off (because how could anyone see *this* as a pursuit of perfection) allowed it to evolve into a sly, secret, insidious treacheror, hell bent on slowly crumbling dreams and joy.
Am I really going to continue ignoring that? I can’t just apply some positive thinking and expect this to disappear.
So tonight I am sitting with it. I’m sitting with this deep seeded, unwelcomed yet very cozy tendency to want things to be perfect, even though I’d never want anyone to know it (including myself). I’m resisting the urge to groan, to grimace, because I know I need to face this *thing* head on now.
SO here it is…Even with the purest intention to remain real and authentic in this self-care journey, I have let the little voice in my head tell me that it’s not good enough to share yet, it’s not worth sharing, and I need to have more figured out first. Submitting to this insidious call for perfection, I’ve effectively curated my accounts to the point of being practically nonexistent.
In what universe is it perfect to not show up? I have a desire and a dream and a mission to help, and I’m not doing any of us any favors if I’m aiming for perfection, however inadvertent my aim be.
So here I am, showing up, bearing it all (ok not all, but enough for tonight) to just FINALLY get something out there.
I’m sitting with this uncomfortable feeling, letting it move through my body, and I’m recognizing the thoughts that are granting it power. Then I change the narrative.
Cliche or not, I want my sights set on progress over perfection. So here I am, after a however-many-months hiatus, writing this post and putting it out there. This is progress, right? And that’s what I’m aiming for, right?
Yes, this is progress. I don’t have to have it all figured out. “Just” some progress is okay.
And actually, it’s better than okay… it’s kinda perfect.