...clutching my pretty pink duotang filled with a nothingness that is so smothering. I rarely make New Year's resolutions, however this year I have decided to forego my habitual start-something-new-and-fun-that-I-will-suck-at eagerness and try something really new. I'm going to try to finish projects I shelved in disgust, despair, or exhaustion.
I was reading about perfectionism this morning. A blogger stated that the worst perfectionists he knows are not successful, high-powered professionals, but rather people who most often do not begin things and never complete them. The blogger insisted that this level of perfectionism was absolutely crippling to the point that the sufferer was so convinced that nothing she could do would be 'good enough', so what was the point of even trying? I fall in the former category when it comes to anything of real importance to me(that story that means something, the one I'd love to tell; the social life I'd love to pursue; and others, my most secret hidden goals kept away from prying eyes and judgements...) and more often the latter in areas and endeavors that don't scare me as much (like keeping up this blog!).
The post struck a resounding chord with me that has been haunting me ever since. So this year I am going to make a resolution. I never do things by halvs, and it's a doozy: I am going to beat my own perfectionism, strike out and risk failure. I'm going to finish those novels I have started instead of writing something completely new. I'm going to keep the paintings I had planned on the back burner until I finish the ones I have already deemed to be beyond saving.
Those pieces of my soul that I have left wasting away in shadows are going to be liberated and celebrated. I am going to finish Sera's story and what's more, when I'm through, I'm going to let someone read it.
OK, that may be going a bit too far...but at least I'll finish them. For myself.