As a result of dabbling in a wide range of resources over the last few months, I’m learning quite a lot about myself. And I don’t mean that in a self-indulgent, overly-solipsistic way, rather I’m starting to peel back the layers beneath my charming idiosyncrasies and realizing the extent to which these “quirks” (as they’re so neatly categorized to my right →) affect me. One issue that stands front and center is the ridiculous demand for cherry-on-top perfectionism that drenches EVERY ladyfinger in the tiramisu of my life. (I must be hungry?) This problem has reached such epic proportions (And the winner for the Most Dramatic Performance in a Blog Post is…) that I’ve started completely avoiding important tasks because I feel overwhelmed with the enormity of how perfectly I’m compelled to accomplish them. UGH – that is so disgustingly extreme that I’ve been working really hard to abate this embarrassing, truly crippling neurosis.
It’s always been important to me to be relatively organized. In fact, I really enjoy sorting through clutter and getting it in order. In general, my shit has always been pretty “Eins, zwei!” but in the last few years the problem lurking a paragraph above (↑) has changed all this. People who know me can tell in little and sometimes not-so-little ways. Case in point: my bathroom closet, which used to look like this.
Last weekend, I made a concerted effort to compartmentalize my anxiety and fix the freakin’ mess. And lo, I done good:
I organized and cleaned the bathroom within an inch of its tiled life and it took all day but it’s done and beautiful AND along the way, I built a tiny bridge to “Get over yourself” land. True, that bridge will need continued reinforcement but a girl’s gotta start somewhere.
It’s rather mortifying to share this problem with you but in the interest of self-improvement and being honest, I spilled the beans. I feel so close to you right now – like we just had sex or something. Hold me!