I was always amazed by the perfectionists. They take care of all those details, not stopping until their work is heavenly created that your eyeballs only have two options – to melt or to jump outside of your eye… holes. Those holes in your skull, y’all know what I mean. Oh man, my vocabulary is sometimes just not cooperating. Anyways…
Thinking… just look at that talent, completely used in a productive and intended way. They must be so proud of themselves. I wish I could touch that skin of perfection made of Mother Nature’s best pieces that she could ever create on this miscellaneous planet. Looking down upon myself as arid mediocrity, obsessed by my flaws and… painful to even mention this word… average (holding my breath) work.
Review on my thoughts and behavior through an example:
Today I was given a creative assignment to do, because… I’m, like, a designer, y’all know. And designers, like, design stuff, y’all know. For some reason, all of a sudden, I don’t know why I even design. I don’t like it at this moment, or maybe from this point till forever. I just wanna go home and look at the sealing until everybody forgets that I work as a designer, or at least until deadline passes and assignment magically disappears.
Oh well… that’s not gonna happen, so I’m gonna work, but first(!)… let me check dozens of unessential tasks and, even better, unessential crap that is even not on my list of unimportant things to do. And in the worse scenarios, if my “balls” don’t want to slide out of my opening at the end of the alimentary canal through which solid waste leaves the body, I’m gonna call and talk to random people, which wouldn’t be a drama thing if I wasn’t introverted human being.
In this whole skillfully crafted plan of endless laziness, there comes the point in reality when little me realizes that I have no time left to finish my work, aka “do everything at the last moment”. And that is exactly what I wanted! Exactly! Exactly dreary kidding – to be more specific!
After some work at an extramundane speed of productivity, and stressing each cell of my traumatized body, I show my work to the eyeballs of others, while having an indescribable war of self-criticism in my head. Why all the ineffectiveness of this world, and life itself, has fallen onto my creativity and abilities?! Who, the hell, ever gave me an idea to start dealing with this kind of stuff?!!!
Meanwhile in the outside world… the river of compliments is blissfully floating.
My mind takes a quiet pause, and continues… maybe they like it because they don’t see this, and this, or that over there… this should be changed, improved…
Ahahaha I can’t say I don’t find this chaos as a funny thing because this is an example of the pure formula of a perfectionist.
Yes, I was amazed by something that I was unconsciously holding without realizing how heavy it is. I was shocked when I realized this. My mind couldn’t accept the fact that perfectionists are full of imperfections, and by that, it couldn’t accept that my imperfect self is a perfectionist.
I was mentioning perfectionism in one of my recent posts which you can find here.
Like everything in life, perfectionism has its cons and pros. So, I accepted my perfectionism and I still have inner fights over my work and the things I do, but at the same time, I love it. I love the turn-on fact that I’m always hungry to improve, do better, and see the 1st place as my goal. Daaamn, calm down, girl!