I have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me to think I'm so good I must be perfect. Or nothing. I am, on the contrary, something: a being who gets tired, has shyness to fight, has more trouble than most facing people easily. If I get through this year, kicking my demon down when ti comes up, realising I'll be tired after a days work, and tired after correcting papers, and it's natural tiredness, not something to be ranted about in horror, I'll be able, piece by piece, to face the field of life, instead of running from it the minute it hurts.
I have a choice: to flee from life and ruin myself forever because I can't be perfect right away, without pain & failure, and to face life on my own terms & "make the best of the job."
My demon of negation will tempt me day by day, and I'll fight it, as something other than my essential self, which I am fighting to save: each day will have something to recommend it: whether the honest delight at watching the quick furred body of a squirrel, or sensing, deeply, the weather and color, or reading and thinking of something in a different light: a good explanation or 5 minutes in class to redeem a bad 45. Minute by minute to fight upward. Out from under that black cloud which would annihilate my whole being with its demand for perfection and measure, not of what I am, but of what I am not.
(from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath)
This is one of the places that Sylvia Plath discusses her perfectionism, or, as she likes to call it, her demon. When I first read these passages they rang so true for me. I am a perfectionist. This can be a good thing. It's what gets me top marks in school. It's what drives me to achieve more and to learn and grow constantly. It's what makes me perfect for editing jobs. However, Sometimes it seriously feels like a curse. It makes me incredibly competitive. Because of my perfectionism I drive myself hard when it comes to school and this sometimes has disastrous consequences on my health, sanity, and social life. I'm obsessive about my outfits: even my socks have to match what I'm wearing. I struggle with perfectionism when it comes to photography and this blog. I feel like if I don't have the "perfect" picture to post then there is no point in me putting something up. I have to force myself to realize that sometimes me loving something is enough of a reason to post it, even if it isn't the most perfectly executed photo or exactly what I am looking for to pair with my musings. I've taken a couple weeks of swing dancing lessons now and my battle with perfectionism has been raging. The first week I was way out of my comfort zone. I didn't know what I was doing and I had a hard time with that. I just hate that feeling of being off kilter and unsure. It's hard to explain, but it really bothers me. I told Bean though, who is taking the lessons with me, that I think it is good for me to push myself outside of my comfort zone sometimes. This week I was actually kind of dreading the lesson. It ended up being so much fun though. I just kind of let it go. I decided, "So what if I'm not perfect at this? Just laugh it off and enjoy yourself." And it worked. So I was right; sometimes I need to push myself out of my comfort zone. And sometimes, I don't need to be perfect.
