I typically wouldn’t call myself a perfectionist.
At least not in a traditional sense.
Whenever I hear people talk about being perfectionists I always interpret that in the most common way, that they don’t want a particular project to see the light of day until it is perfect. And because nothing is ever perfect most of their projects or creations or art never see the light of day.
I don’t have that brand of perfectionism.
The daily writing should be proof of that.
I look at these posts as a conversation, and conversations by their very chaotic nature are imperfect.I’m not afraid of the work in progress being seen as the finished product, I judt don’t have that fear.
I’m willing to throw almost anything out there, because as an artist I have never been able to be perfect, that’s the beauty of playing punk rock, it’s perfection is in it’s messiness.
No, the perfectionism I have is far more sinister.
Because it comes from a fear more sinister than the fear of being a bad creator.
It’s fear that I have turned into fuel for so long that I don’t know how to run things any other way.
It’s not how I would recommend living your life, but I only have my own life to live.
It’s the fear that if I don’t do everything perfectly in my relationships that people will leave.
At its core it stems from being afraid that saying the wrong thing will end relationships that are important to me.
And its core it really is about wanting people to like me.
And being afraid that they don’t.
I have all the tools I need to deal with this fear, and over the last 3 years or so it has really gotten a lot better in terms of how much it can stop me. But that is because I turned it into fuel.
Only lately I have been wondering how long I can burn that fuel.
Sometimes I think that turning my fears into motivations may not have been the right choice.
Which means I might have some new learning on the horizon.