I don’t think I am a very good writer. I don’t think I convey my thoughts and feelings clearly. It’s something that has haunted me for a long time.
My constant need for perfection and the obsession of getting it right has crippled me greatly. So between this and my last writing, that’s what I’ve been sitting with.
Then the world changed with the coronavirus, and for the first time, I have to sit with my flaws. Sit with my thoughts for the first time. Sit with nothing to do. The thought of doing anything at all was overwhelming. And the flaw of my perfectionism shined right through.
For the first time, I have slow time. I remember previously joking to myself that I needed a vacation. It’s a good thing I’m not religious, because I’d say the universe has a messed up sense of humor. My perfectionism does me no good in this time.
So this is me, working despite my perfectionism. Staying connected, keeping an open mind has made a world of difference to me.