It’s really hard for a perfectionist to have a blog. I should know; I’m a recovering perfectionist. I’ve also started fourteen blogs since 2009.
It’s hard to write two articles a week for a blog and make sure they meet the standard we want them to meet — that they are “virtuous, lovely, of good report, and praiseworthy.”
So, as perfectionists often do, we just didn’t write. Social media was in flames. Our lives were hectic. We ignored our goals. Subconsciously, we decided that if we couldn’t do it perfectly, we wouldn’t do it at all.
That is NOT the way to live life!
As Voltaire wrote, “The perfect is the enemy of the good.”
Of course perfection is the ideal, and it’s what we should aim for. But as human beings, perfection is light years away from our reality. It’s outside the realm of our possibility. Day to day, all we can really aim for is our best. Which, often enough, looks like someone’s worst.
So many of us allow ourselves to become paralyzed by our desire to be perfect, and as a result, we refuse to let ourselves do anything.
But here’s my question for you: would you rather never be perfect or never play?
This life is your only go on earth. So own it! Don’t let it slip away!
The funny thing is, our perception of ourselves is so often skewed. We only look at the ugly parts of ourselves. We think our past is broken and our future clouded over. We don’t give ourselves the credit that we’re due. We don’t internalize our success.
Yes, I’ve started fourteen blogs. But do you know how old I was when I started my first?
Nine. Years. Old.
How many nine year olds do you know who have their own blog?
Yeah, it wasn’t a great blog, and only my mom and grandma read it. That’s not the point.
I was a nine year old girl who saw her mom writing for her own blog and wanted to do it too. I was a nine year old who wrote about her first scooter and her pet rats (don’t ask) with terrible grammar and sloppy voice, but at least I wrote.
That blog fostered my love of writing, which flourished throughout my early teenage years. I read voraciously and studied character arc, plot development, and world building. I grew my understanding and proficiency in my art. My mistakes only made me better.
When I was nine, I hadn’t yet learned to be paralyzed by perfection. I didn’t know to limit myself for fear of messing up. I didn’t know how bad I was, so I didn’t get in my own way to get better.
We may know (or think we know) how poorly we are doing, but that doesn’t mean we have to get in our own way of getting better.
Don’t be paralyzed by perfection. Live your own best, imperfect life.
In the meantime, I’m going to go write some more posts for this blog.