Perfectionism in Journal

I am more comfortable doing all-or-nothing. This inclination toward extremes applies to laziness/productivity, inaction/action, understimulation/overstimulation, indifference/love. If I’m running late to an appointment, I’d rather cancel. If I can’t write a paper perfectly, I don’t even want to do it. This inclination holds me back from achieving more. I’m intelligent and capable, but my inner critic bashes my confidence to near-paralysis, so it requires strong effort to override my feelings of inadequacy in order to perform.

I don’t know if perfection is based on Truth and Reality or just Illusion and Concept. Can we only asymptotically approach perfection within this lifetime? Is it like grasping for the ever elusive God, the One, the All? Perhaps the problem is temporal in nature. Something deemed perfect, good, beautiful, true in this lifetime - experienced during a moment that gives us a deep sense of completeness - we wish to last forever in a sustained, frozen sort of way. But it can never be. Nor should it be. How would we know perfection without imperfection?

The trick is becoming more comfortable with imperfection. The grey area. Allow myself to be less than what I conceive is the ideal version of me. It’s good enough that I’ve continued to evolve toward longer periods of lightness. For awhile there, I thought darkness would always dominate my life - which made me wish Death were closer. Now I wouldn’t mind living longer.