"Don't be so hard on yourself."
People say this to me from time to time. And their motive is kind and loving and even praising. They think I am better than they perceive me as knowing. And that is kind. And they want to help.
But the best name I can give for what I have is Clinical Perfectionism.
Did you know that I actually don't want to be so hard on myself? I have tried to not be so hard on myself for over twenty years. I look around at people that are "laid back" and "easy going" and don't sweat the small stuff and I wish and hope and ache for that ability.
I wish. I hope. I ache.
It literally feels impossible for me to let go of things when they aren't perfect. I can't concentrate. I can't go on. I can't think my next thought. I need things around me to be perfect or I struggle to function.
And everything is never going to be perfect. Yet I feel like I can't rest or relax until it is. And it can't be.
And it's like living in my own self-made hell.
And it's like living in my own self-made hell.
My own hell.
I wish. I hope. I ache to be like you.
