Fuck perfect!

As a recovering perfectionist...

Perfection created constraints that bound me to my failures so tightly I could no longer move.

My primordial brain crushed under the weight of perfection. Fearing failure. Any move unleashed anxiety and depression that wrecked me.

Perfectionism tightening inward and inward and inward, tighter and tighter into a ball of fire in me.

Finally bursting from what I feared most until it was what I most desired: I no longer cared. The numbness and apathy broke apart my inhibitions under the pressure of perfection.

What other people think of me - especially the ones I love - love unconditionally - PRACTICE.

What I think of myself - love unconditionally- PRACTICE.

What I create - let it flow - PRACTICE.

What I express - radical freedom - PRACTICE.

️ What I experience internally reflects externally - I do not hide, I shine - PRACTICE.

What I am passionate about, I am present in and with - PRACTICE.

Trying new things and failing miserably with a smile on my face.

Getting back up and trying again.

There is a pose in yoga - bakasana: crow pose - that I love and hate because I keep trying it, only to briefly touch on getting it perfect and it’s now OK. I continue to practice this pose, feeling my strength build, sometimes falling over and down to the floor. Where once upon a time I would quit, now I laugh with the fun and joy of practice.

Laughter reminds me I am still breathing and I can keep practicing.

Practice your passion.

Perfection can fuck off.

Cheers!