As long as I remember myself, I always tried to be perfect.
When I was 7 years old, it meant:
– hiding my emotions (whenever I was pissed off, I acted like I did not care);
– being a straight A student at school;
– being an obedient child at home.
It was easy. I was really good at it.
I always thought that living like this was my true path. It was essence of my personality.
Then, at around 17, boom! Panic attacks, anxiety, depression.
I was barely coping with university education program. I studied hard, but still it felt like I was so far behind other students.
Even those almost-dropouts made better than me: yes, they had problems with their study, but looked like they did not care. They had rich social life: something I was deprived of.
On the global scope, the pattern I used throughout my childhood, my super-perfect style did not work anymore. I lost my superpower. …And those coward panic attacks, every episode of which I thought I was gonna die…
People told me all the time: relax, take it easy. Rationally, they were right. But I just could not make it.
If I did it, it would meant that I betrayed myself, my very core.
I had to be sure that everything was under control. What if I get distracted? Catastrophe! Boy, my life was already a catastrophe.
But it was MY catastrophe. So familiar and cozy.
Relaxing was not part of me. I considered ‘having fun’ and ‘taking it easy’ to be an escape for the weak people.
But the only weak person in the room was me.
Why I could not allow myself to relax? Why I was afraid to lose control over my stressed out life?
Becase it meant to become bad.
good = perfect
In my mind, I was good only when I was perfect. That was my whole life’s ultimate equation.
I didn’t want to disbalance it. I was afraid to break it.
I didn’t want to become bad. Noone wants to be bad. But I became too bad at being good. And that was the deadend in my life.
Now I am good at being bad.
Still looking for the way to be good at being myself.