Good, Bad, Myself

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.

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