What If I Shit My Pants?

How To Get Out of Freeze Mode

I can't keep count of how many times I go throughout my day thinking about how I can't wait to be done with work so I can come on here and write. I even come up with multiple things I want to write about, but then by the time I sit down in front of my computer screen, I end up:

  1. Checking social media and doomscrolling until my eyes hurt and I have convinced myself everything in life is pointless anyway.

  2. Having a lot to write about, but the brain fog is so thick that forming words in a cohesive way feels impossible, so I end up frustrated and just decide to continue to rot my brain with doomscrolling instead.

  3. When I do have the energy to write, I end up feeling like I can't waste the opportunity, so it has to be perfect...therefore causing me intense anxiety, which leads to freeze mode.

I guess this is my attempt to get out of freeze mode because my frustration with freeze mode is overriding my desire for perfection.

Whenever I get stuck trying to be perfect, I try to remind myself, "Perfection is boring," and that some of the best blogs I have read, or some of the people I enjoy the most, are far from perfect.

In fact, I believe the imperfections are what make life and people so interesting. So why do I hold myself to this impossible standard? Why do I want to make myself fucking boring?

Logically, I know that perfection doesn't exist, but my brain sure does like to try to strive for it. Maybe that is the autism, or maybe it is trauma. Either way, striving for perfection has not actually helped my life one bit. Sure, it has helped me achieve some pretty big things in life, but looking back, I realize I could have achieved those things without striving for perfection and just striving for "good" or whatever my best effort was. Why do I have to torture myself along the way?

So I guess I am challenging myself to be imperfect and not letting perfection be the enemy of good. I am so tired of getting stuck in freeze mode. It just makes me more anxious, and I feel like a prisoner in my own body.

Fuck this prison. Fuck perfection.