I am a perfectionist.
I see it in my everyday activities. I see it in my work and in my role as a mom. On most days, I can recognize when my perfectionism comes out and I can gently put it in check. I do this by reminding myself that I am human, and that perfect isn’t real. I remind myself that I am the only one having such high expectations for myself.
My perfectionism shows itself usually when I am being triggered and in fear. When I am deep in emotion, it becomes harder for me to recognize that I am relying on perfectionism, a coping mechanism that pushes me to do better, be better and work harder. My head tells me that if I achieve certain things, I will be safe and loved and that I will feel okay in my skin. But guess what? This is simply not true.
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