Too much to be perfect.

Every sentence I begin to write feels like a cliché. How many times have I written something here only to erase it before even finishing the thought?  I wish I had a concrete number instead of trying to come up with a new way of saying, "too many."  Searching too hard for that perfect line, I've often abandoned entire ideas due to this irrational fear.

But this kind of fear is irrational because it comes from a worry of not getting it right. That's the same as failing. That's the same as starting all over again. That's the same as not even doing it at all. I'm back where I started.  Why did I even try?  Not even trying is the same as failing. So then, does that mean I'm actually afraid of succeeding? Since I've failed myself at not trying, I must be used to failure.

Success would mean change. Change can be scary. I don't want to be scared. Maybe I should continue to do nothing so I don't have to change. But - change is necessary. It's inevitable. It's constant. Ironically, it is the only constant. That's ironic isn't it? I mean, I don't want to pull an Alanis Morrisette and gain notoriety for using a word wrong. (Not that im trying to imply how her improper use of the word ironic was the only thing that got her famous either. I've been a teenager before and rocked out to her music because I felt like she totally, "got me.").  

This is an example of something I might have erased. The stream of conscious way of writing appears, distracted. It wanders. My thoughts often stray into the abstract and suddenly I want to explain it. Then the entire article seems to have lost its topic all together. It appears to be a conversation of ramblings rather than a life changing, epiphany striking idea.  So it all turns into a memory with the touch of the back arrow and I will continue my day as if nothing happened at all.

That is the exact problem I continue to run into. My self destruction before I even begin. The sadness I feel by the realization that it appears I am doing nothing at all. Which makes me wish i put more effort into writing, when in fact I have, but there are no results to prove it as I continually delete posts before even posting them. The realization that my blog isn't developing as quickly as I'd hoped.  The answer is directly correlated to this worry of not being good enough. If that first sentence isn't catchy, I need to rewrite it to my satisfaction and then it can be published.  As I am never completely satisfied, nothing ever gets posted.  It's appearing to be a self defeating prophecy, which only gets worse with each unfulfilled attempt.

It's the anxiety I feel at presenting something I don't believe to be my best work. The perfectionist inside of me believes that what I show the world is a reflection of me, and if it is not perfect, then I am not perfect. Despite my reassurances that no one is perfect, we are human. We do our best, or the best we can do given the circumstances, learn and go from there.  That means I don't have to continue in this cycle of dissapointment.  Choosing to continue doing the same thing and hoping my feelings will change the next go around is insanity. My actions must change. 

If I want to get over this irrational fear of putting something out in the world which might not be perfect then I must actually do it. Fine. It's not perfect, it leaves room for judgement, criticism, and creates a vulnerability I may not be comfortable with.  But this opens the door for improvement. A way to grow and become better so my perfectionist can feel some satisfaction one day.

Sometimes the only way to save oneself is to do the exact thing one is afraid of.  It doesn't have to feel like fear, take that emotion and pretend it is excitement instead. Those stomach butterflies can become a source of energy, enthusiasm and strength. It really is a matter of decision and choosing how to perceive things. The mind is a powerful weapon. It needs to be used as an asset for self betterment, not as a force of destruction.

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