I’m in a place right now where I feel happy but frustrated. Lack of patience has always been something I’ve struggled with. I think you can see it in my posts sometimes too. Perfection is not me. I want to get shit out as soon as possible. I like that though, that it doesn’t have to be perfect before I can share it. Because that makes it more me than if everything would be perfect. Or if everything had to be perfect. That’s why journalism school wasn’t for me. They all saw things I would never see. The small things in texts. I didn’t like changing my texts. Because it felt like I had to change me into what someone else wants. I’m not perfect. And I’ve never been perfect.
I get uncomfortable when people expect perfection of me. Even if it’s subjective. Probably because I don’t really care about perfection. You know when what you do is never enough, and you can always improve. Sometimes I just wish we could settle and be happy with what we achieved. But then again, when would you grow? You grow in challenges. I’ve got areas in my life where I welcome challenges. Like with mymondaylove. I want it to last. And I get so much out of this blog myself. It’s like therapy. Like my computer, baby-David, is my shrink. With every post I’m in the psychologist office trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, and what will “fix” me. I often understand myself more when I write it down. I need to get my thoughts out of my head. That’s enough to me. They don’t have to be perfect. My thoughts.
“Even when I reach what was once was my ideal body my eyes only saw what was wrong”
Just then, when I went up to get a cup of tea, a coconut and ginger tea which is the best I’ve tried, I realized that I’ve always aimed for perfect. In so many areas of my life. In school I had to have the best grades in everything. If I had one thing wrong in a test I couldn’t be happy for all the rights. With my body. I’ve never been happy with my body. Even when I reach what was once was my ideal body my eyes only saw what was wrong. I’ve never settled. The annoying thing is that I have pushed myself through shit I don’t even care about. What a waste of time that is. Just for others to think I’m perfect. In school there wasn’t many times I did stuff for me. I needed good grades so that the teachers would see me as the perfect student. So that my grades would look perfect on paper. I wasn’t a natural easy learner. I sat and read and read until I fell asleep on my French revolution book and woke up and threw it into the wall. I hated it. But I had to do it. Not for me. For “them”. And yesterday I met a little girl, 12 years old who reminded me a lot of me back then. And she said that she can’t settle for less than perfect. I told her that I used to be like that and looking back I wish I didn’t took life and things I didn’t care about so serious back then.
Imagine if I’d understood then that there is more to life than perfect grades and a perfect body. If I could have focused on my lack of confidence and worked on how to be myself in the society without caring of what everyone thought of me. You know, I’ve wanted to create a blog since I was 15 years old, but I haven’t been able to do it because I’ve cared about if other people would approve it. If they would find it tacky, corny. Imagine if school would help people focus on not caring if people judge you, because everywhere people will. But it is only if you let it get to you that you’ll try and shape yourself after other peoples judgments. Or what you think other people would think about you. Most of the time it’s just in your own head.
What if I had tried to chase what I love, rather than what I thought would make me fit in?
I didn’t have anything then. Or I had my need to please others, be perfect in school and have a perfect body. Three things that would never happen since I didn’t have the ability to see perfection in anything I did. And then of course I had partying to escape the imperfection in my life. What if I wouldn’t have cared about being judged? What If I would’ve had the courage to be me, be with people who treated themselves and others well rather than who were the “cool” people who didn’t support anything that wasn’t “cool”? What if I had tried to chase what I love, rather than what I thought would make me fit in? What I thought would make people approve me?
Maybe this is why I have always loved writing. Because it’s the only area in my life where I settle and love the imperfection. I appreciate inconsistency in texts. I know that how I write isn’t textbook perfect, but for some reason I share it anyway. It’s the only area in my life where I don’t expect perfection from myself. And it’s also the only area where I feel free. What does that say about me? Perfect is shit and can never be achieved. Imperfection is beautiful.