Perfection

I am a perfectionist.

A dyed-in-the-wool, anxiety-disorder having, panic attack having perfectionist.

I hate the term perfectionist.  It always felt to me that it mplied uptight, stick-in-the-mud, desiring of everything in it’s proper place and lined up magazines.

Whereas my perfectionism takes the form of being so afraid of messing things up, that I won’t start anything.  I will follow this pattern for stupid things, like writing, learning to apply makeup, and talking to strangers in public…as well as even more stupid things, like doing laundry and cleaning the house.

I could go all psychoanalysis and delve into the things that have made me this way, both of the nature and the nurture variety.  But I just want it to stop.  I’d like to be able to finish a day of doing something and feel I’ve done enough, or to actually start something without short circuiting myself with worry before I take the first step.

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