In this week’s episode, In Praise of the Little Bits, I talk a bit about my own journey with perfectionism, starting in my childhood. I was raised by an authoritarian ex-military father, in an evangelical church, and in public school. Each of these three pillars of my life asked me to be a certain way—a way that I, fundamentally, could not be. As a result, I picked up a lot of programming about how I wasn’t good enough, that I was broken, that I couldn’t be loved.
Sound familiar?
It feels like the last ten years have been a slow and gradual healing from the dark mess that drove me to drugs and abusive relationships. I’m not claiming I’m healed now, not by a long stretch. Just the other night I found myself in near hysterics at the thought of entering into a social situation, gripped by fear of rejection and a bone deep fatigue that is a combination of my recent health issues and the exhaustion of carrying around the weight of my ‘failures’ for 34 years.
I don’t watch a lot of commercials these days, but even without 30 second spots on TV telling me how happy I’d be with this shampoo or that brand of eyeliner, I’m still bombarded with these messages. The consumer machine that we live in can’t exist without making as many of us as possible feel like we’re lacking something intrinsic. They do a damn good job at it, too.
In the midst of all this, is it any wonder the rates of depression, addiction, and suicide just keep rising? I’ve had plenty of my own dances with the thought of just wanting things to end, because the pressure sometimes feels like way too much to bear.
I’m still here. By some strange grace I haven’t walked so far into the darkness that it swallowed me up. And if you’re reading this, that means you’re still here, too.
Hi.
Thanks for sticking around this long.
I know it hasn’t been easy. You’re a badass just for being here. I hope you can see that, when you look in the mirror. And if you can’t, that’s okay. Keep looking. I think, one day, you’ll see a warrior—scars and all—looking back.