I’ve been thinking about these two words all week. I just hit a new growth period in my life and fighting with my perfectionism is an understatement. This isn’t any old fight, this is an all-out battle. While I know I’m still not coming to the absolute end of this very long battle, I do know that my perfectionism is painfully obvious to me now every day. So why can’t I finally let this go? What am I holding on to? Is it possible to still hold my life together if I’m not doing it under some strange guise of being perfect? I don’t know. I’m not pretending to know.
I do know this - movement helps.
“We see in order to move; we move in order to see.”
― William Gibson
Movement has been my go-to.
I can’t find the perfect outfit, I find one good enough and go.
I can’t write the perfect article, I post it anyway and begin a new piece.
I can’t find the perfect words for my husband, I just kiss him and walk away.
I start to dwell on something I said or did to someone that may have been the wrong thing to say or do, I forgive myself and I breath and I move on.
Movement has been the key to get me unstuck from this pattern of perfectionism. It doesn’t mean I don’t care. It just means that sometimes you’re willing to settle for a B in place of being nice to yourself. Not always, but sometimes. What I didn’t expect from all this movement is this jolt of creativity it’s provided me. It’s made me a bit less critical, a bit more flexible. More movement, more permission, more space to be me. The true me. It feels good. Some would even say I now have better flow!