I'm a perfectionist.
Everyone knows someone who's declared this about themselves...most of us know many. Perfectionism is now a crowning achievement.- a badge of honor if you will- that in the same breath also declares, I'm not lazy. Somewhere along the line, or maybe this has always been the case, perfectionist has become synonymous with hard worker, detail oriented and reliable.
It's no wonder why so many of us are drowning in our own perfection.
It's taken me a lot of work to discover that most of my actions, if not all of them, were done in an effort to reach perfect and exude flawlessness. Those of you who've been there, know that it's a terrifying feat to face. Because the truth is, a part of you- the higher self- always knew that perfect wasn't possible and also not the point. But your ego- that determined little thing- kept fighting for it and thus began the conflict within.
That internal conflict lead me to think about why. Why was it so important for me to be perfect? Well that answer didn't come easy...it took a lot of digging but in the end, when it came, it came like a whisper- a gentle hand- releasing me from the chains of perfectionism.
I needed to be perfect so that I could survive. I had a theory that if I wasn't perfect, somehow, I would be left behind, that I wouldn't make it. Ultimately, being perfect meant that I wouldn't die. Saying it now sounds ridiculous and yet there's still a voice of doubt within me. Could it be true?
I'm proud to say, that voice is a lot quieter these days.