Admission: I am a perfectionist.
This is a hindrance in my life. It keeps me from trying. Because if it can’t be perfect, why bother at all?
My perfectionism makes it so that once something is less than what I want it to be, I lose the drive to keep going. This blog, for example, is not the first one I’ve made. I’ve had plenty of ideas for what would make a wonderful blog, and started down the path of execution many times, only to stop once I’ve made a mistake, been unhappy about a single post, felt it wasn’t successful enough quickly enough.
It happens in other situations as well. A day starts off badly, why bother with the rest of the day at all? When I was little I would stay angry for hours, days, weeks, because something didn’t go to plan, didn’t turn out how I wanted.
Last summer, something big and ugly and terrifying and mortifying happened to me, and after that happened I felt as though my life was ruined. Tainted, disgraced, scarred. I thought: well there’s no bloody point to anything now. I might as well throw in the towel, call it quits. And that’s what I did. I gave up on life and sulked for months and months until I had broken everything down to the point where I had been hospitalised, put on meds, lost my job, lost my flat, lost my life.
I don’t ever want to see myself being that negative and stubborn again. I hope I’ve truly learnt something and will manage to keep myself from quitting next time. I hope next time I’ll be able to say that yes, this terrible thing happened, but I will make the best of it. I really hope so.