On Metamorphosis & Perfectionism
My laptop screen is dirty and that’s not perfect and I accept that.
We’re letting go of perfection today. I will not stress about the perfect first sentence. I am just writing. Not looking back. Only flowing and moving forward. Not overthinking.
It’s not what I’m used to. I’m trying to break a lifelong habit. As I was going through some old keepsake boxes this week, I found a report card from first grade. Mrs. Decker said that I was an excellent writer, but that my perfectionism held me back from writing longer pieces.
Oh. OH.
My adult self felt super called out reading that. She was spot-on. I am the non-writing writer and I have been for a long time. Nothing is ever good enough to put on paper. Every first sentence is the wrong one. Every spark of inspiration gets snuffed out with “not yet” or “maybe one day.”
I think a lot about Ernest Hemingway and so many of the great writers I’ve studied. They have discipline. They simply “sit down at the typewriter and bleed.” They don’t wait. They write.
**
I started this blog the same way I’ve started all the others that I eventually quit on – with a flood of inspiration and a slightly desperate need for an outlet of self expression. But then the overthinking creeps in as it always does, and I can’t post anything unless it’s perfect. And nothing ever is.
In the spirit of breaking old habits, I might just post this messy draft. We will call it exposure therapy. And yes, it makes me uncomfortable.
**
Here’s what they don’t tell you about healing. It actually really hurts. You see people have glow-ups, improve their mental health, lose the weight, become happier and healthier…and it looks great. But I don’t think anyone tells you how much of your past, of yourself, has to fall away for you to get there. And it’s a painful process.
I think about butterflies a lot. I felt like the small town I’ve lived in was a sort of a cocoon for me. Tight. Slightly suffocating. But also a chance for me to look deeply inward and focus on the changes I needed to make to grow into someone who was happier, healthier, freer, and more at peace no matter where she landed.
And the chrysalis stage is not pretty. It’s messy. It hurts. And you don’t know what’s coming on the other side, you just keep going on faith alone.
I did the inner work. Therapy, journaling, walking, meditating, changing my daily habits and the way I speak to myself, and so much more. There is a lot of shedding of past selves in that process. A lot of rewiring.
So what happens when you’re on the other side, when you’ve completely rewired your brain? You’re not the same person anymore. And that changes the world around you.
Some people will be drawn in like moths to a flame. Others will be blinded by the light and flee. And some, even the ones you love most, will try to force you back into the chrysalis that was once so familiar and safe…but you don’t fit anymore.
And, yeah, your legs are shaky and your wings aren’t even dry yet. Sometimes trying to squeeze back into the cocoon sounds easier, comforting even. But once you’ve changed, there’s no going back. The world has to meet the new version of you. And that’s exciting. And terrifying.
**
It’s been an emotional week — going through old keepsakes, journals, and birthday cards as I am weeks away from my 30th birthday, looking at my past with new eyes, and trying to see where the new version of me fits. All while spending time back in the town where I grew up with the people and the river that raised me.
So today, I’m publishing without perfection. And then I’m rebaptizing myself in the May River.
A morning swim in the May with my dad and grandfather was one of my favorite things to do as a kid. Saltwater heals. And by the afternoon, I won’t even be the same version of me who wrote this.
I’m setting this down and going swimming.
