And the judge spoke . . .

I thought that I could say this, but then I couldn’t . . .

Perfection is behind the fear lurking around and is not setting me free to write what I want to write. I wrote a blog a few weeks ago, which I had intended to post, as my first piece on my website. When the day came for me to post it, my mind was changed. I was really having a hard time with it. I told myself, this doesn’t define me. I had a lot of judgment towards my writing; I was worried that others might see through me and didn’t want to risk it. That is the truth. Perfectionism seems to be holding a lot of power over me these days.

In the Oxford language dictionary, Perfectionism is defined as: “refusal to accept any standard short of perfection.” and perfection is defined as: “the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.” So I wonder, am I refusing to accept my writing because I don’t think it is perfect? Who is defining perfect in this case? Me? Is this bringing me any freedom from my fixated mind? Do I feel more peaceful? Present? In pursuit of perfection and seeking a flawless path, it seems I become trapped within my fear, miles away from being free. 

I am curious about what is behind this desire to be perfect. Who is dictating this very narrative? Where is it coming from? So many questions come to mind: what is this fear that is holding me back? Who is directing what I should or shouldn’t write?! What am I trying to achieve here? Is the idea of being perfect so important that I should stop writing? I am conflicted. I wonder where am I going to draw the line? How do I acknowledge this struggle and yet somehow accept my writing? How many people are out there not sharing their writings; perhaps stemming from the fear of a similar experience?

Here are some thoughts: I realize when I deconstruct my fear, I am seeking some form of validation. Isn’t that really the big elephant in the room behind perfectionism? It is perfection’s ghost that chooses to wear this mask. I realize I empower these choices; they hold me back. Gosh, there is self-loathing, feelings of shame that one experiences in moments like this. 

“It’s always helpful to remember when perfectionism is driving; shame is riding shotgun” - Berne Brown

I believe perfection is possibly a myth. No-one is perfect. No-one even knows what perfect is. No-one knows who started it all. Where is the beginning of this? Where did I first pick it up? Was it elementary school? Was it later? Was this even my worry or my mother’s worry? Or conceivably my grandmothers? Father? Grandfather? or the neighbor, teacher, a friend? Somewhere along the way, I must have thought their way of doing things was better than mine. Perhaps it was; perhaps it was not. Hence, the myth, such is the paradox. 

If I treat this fear as my ally, it allows it to exist in this very here and now. Even though I don’t see you, it could be that your curiosity led you to this blog. I am grateful for curiosity; it connects me to you. Knowing this allows me to relinquish the hold that I placed on myself. I choose to trust the process. Maybe, this longing that we wish to experience resides in feeling our interconnectedness. Somehow, now when I look at perfection through these lenses, perfectionism is no longer pulling the reins.

Phew, that was fun; I hope to talk to you soon.