Head’s Up: This is a long post that isn’t even fun. I won’t blame you if you choose not to read it. I almost didn’t post it- you’ll see why if you DO read it.

Striving for excellence motivates you; striving for perfection is demoralizing.  -Harriet Braiker

I’m a perfectionist.

Not the kind that had straight A’s from kindergarten to graduate school. Not the kind that makes five-course meals for her husband & 3.5 kids even on a Tuesday night. Not even the kind that excels at one particular thing so well that all of their other flaws are forgiven.

I’m a perfectionist who does nothing.

I am so afraid of failing, that most of the time, I won’t even try something. One of my favorite quotes is “It is better to keep quiet & be thought a fool, than to open your mouth & prove it.” I’ve rewritten this into my own mantra as “It is better to do nothing & have others think you can’t, than to try to do it & prove that you can not.”

It’s a really, really unhealthy way of thinking & it cripples me in many ways. I am afraid to try a new craft because I am afraid it won’t be perfect & I’ll have wasted my time & the money spent on supplies. I’m afraid to try new recipes in case my family doesn’t love them. I am afraid to seek out new opportunities because I have a complete & utter phobia of rejection or of not meeting expectations.

I’ve always been like this. ALWAYS. About a year ago, I found a journal that I wrote in when I was seven years old. I wrote about how upset I was that something {I can’t remember what, a school project?} didn’t go as planned & that I didn’t deserve the new toy my parents had purchased me, the love they gave me or even to have my cat. Yes, my cat. Seven year olds have a slightly different view of things… but you see where I’m going with this.

Growing up, I spent a lot of time hating myself. I wanted to be perfect, to do things perfectly- yet most of the time I didn’t even try to do the things that I wanted to do, & when I did, I beat myself up about my self-perceived “shortcomings” for weeks, if not months.

I blamed myself NOT for having unrealistic expectations, but for failing to meet them.

Having a background in psychology, I can see where my cognitive behavior is flawed. I know that, as I said, the flaw is that my expectations are unrealistic. But even knowing THAT makes me anxious- rationally I know that’s a fact but in my mind that just adds another flaw onto the long list of them I’ve already written out.

Toward the end of my teen years, I finally spoke to a doctor about my mental health issues- well, I spoke of my depression, panic attacks & obsessive-compulsive disorder but through talking with her, we discovered I also suffer from generalized anxiety disorder {the main source of the panic attacks} & social phobia. Knowing the names of the feelings & fears I had struggled with all my life not only helped me to begin to cope with them, but allowed me to take the medication I so desperately needed at the time just to bring myself to a state of normalcy.

I took that medication for over 5 years. I stopped a few months ago because my doctor refused to authorize a refill over the phone until I went to see him. I refused to see him. So, I spent two months dealing with some pretty bad side effects, including what is referred to as “electric zaps” that made me dizzy & interfered with my vision {the result of my brain sending nerve signals requesting a chemical that was no longer present}. Now that I have been free of side-effects for about a month, I’m starting to remember why I needed the medication.

My OCD is coming back. My anxiety levels have SKYROCKETED. I have mini-panic attacks out of the blue- sitting in my living room, driving or just eating lunch with Shane. I’ve had a couple of full-blown panic attacks, but only two or three. My social phobia is coming back & I am afraid to go anywhere where there may be people whose opinions of me I care about. {I’m okay with going to places like Gymboree because I am only acquaintances with most of the moms there; anyone I consider a friend, I’m currently afraid of being around in case I say or do the wrong thing.}

It’s ridiculous. &I know it’s ridiculous. But I can’t really do anything.

I could go to therapy but that costs money I don’t have. Besides, I’ve had ONE therapy session in my life- and when I showed up for the second, the Dr. told me she couldn’t deal with my case because it was too advanced for her.

..Yes, seriously.

&I don’t want to go back on the medicine because I don’t want to be dependent on anything.

So, I’ve kind of lost faith &given up on the thought that I can actually get help.

Because after all, if I don’t try to get help, I can’t fail at it, right?

A man would do nothing if he waited until he could do it so well that no one could find fault.  -John Henry Newman

UPDATE: 4/16 at 11:30pm

Hey again everyone, just a quick update to this post. First of all, thank you so much for all of your kind & encouraging comments & emails, I greatly appreciate them. I will be getting back to all of you individually but I wanted to mention this to all of you who have expressed your concerns & for those who may just now be reading the post: I am not {currently} depressed. While, yes, I have struggled with major depressive disorder for the majority of my life, it is on “hiatus” {SO not a medical term but you know what I mean} at this point in time. My OCD is back, my anxiety is back, but my depression, luckily, is not. I just felt the need to say that because my initial post seems to be suggesting that it is, and I don’t want to seem or be overly dramatic or have you needlessly worrying. Like I said, I truly & honestly appreciate all of your concern and it feels great to know that there are so many caring, loving people out there that are willing to support someone they may not even know. You all totally rock.

Look for a follow-up post in the next few days with some of the other things I ran out of room & time to say in the original post- this is so not meant to be a teaser but it’s past my bedtime & I am exhausted. Love you all & thank you again. <3