An Exercise on Perfectionism and Inner Child Work
This post is completely unplanned. Typically, I brainstorm blogspot ideas, select one, create some bullet points within an outline, possibly do some research, write it out, and then edit it- but not this time. It’s mind to keyboard and I’m hoping for the best as it’s a rather delicate subject to discuss openly. As it goes, two years ago today I was back in Paris with my friends after a four-day trip to Switzerland with someone I had only met a month prior. This might sound like a disaster story but on the contrary, my trip to Switzerland in 2020 has now become synonymous with the beginning of my inner child work journey.
Inner child work is at its core the beauty within the beast. Our inner child is beautiful and innocent and pure; yet oftentimes disguises itself as angry, prideful, and egotistical. I’m shaking as I write this because believing that our childhood experiences could affect our behavior for the rest of our lives terrifies me to acknowledge. You see, I’m someone who until recently (two years, to be exact) did not want to believe that my childhood experiences played any role in my adulthood. It is still new to me to discover these patterns, and every time I do it’s shocking and very emotionally taxing on my psyche. Every. Single. Damn. Time.
It gets easier though, truly. I’ve always viewed this process as flying one of those remote controlled planes for the first time: it takes a while to take off, then it does and you think you got it and bam, it crashes down. But you try and try again. And yeah, I’ve managed to keep my little plane afloat for the last two years, but don’t get it twisted: I’ve also refused to fly it and have walked away from it. Eventually, I come back to it because I remember the moments that I’ve kept it flying and how proud of myself I’ve been and how rewarding it has felt- and that’s why I’m here now.
The need to be perfect and only post quality work on a specific day and time with perfect pictures has held be back from posting for too damn long. I miss creating, I miss writing, I miss posting. But I have this need to be perfect that I’ve recently discovered stems from my childhood and I’m so tired of letting it hold me back. Posting this feels uncomfortable because I know it’s not how I normally approach blogspots; but enough is enough. I’m only holding myself back. I need to recognize that nothing will ever be perfect and that’s okay. I’m pushing through the discomfort and I’m not going to look back. I’m going to sit with it and grow from it and do it again and again until I’m no longer shaking when I do post without a plan or when it doesn’t feel perfect. Because it will get better and I will get better, I know I will.
xo
