Something my therapist continually tells me was proven for me today….I’m a perfectionist. I never believed her until I literally saw it with my own eyes.
Today, I started my very first art class. I decided to try my hand at drawing, something I never do because I believe that I am terrible at it. Come to think of it, I hate doing things I believe I am bad at. Hmmm….
As the class progressed, there I was trying to sketch an assortment of flowers in a vase with two stone birds arranged beside it. I thought I was doing a terrible job, but those in the class thought it was good. The instructor commented that I was a detailer. I was surprised by the complements and then it dawned on me. What I saw in the drawing was not the same as what others saw.
When I changed my perspective to looking at a drawing from a beginner, I was impressed by how “almost” realistic it was. Of course, there were some problems with it, but that just means I have room to grow.
Now, I’m so excited about the class. I want to run to the store and get the supplies I need and knowing me more than just that.
So, I’ve realized I need to work on not expecting perfection, but I will always work towards it.
Lately, I’ve been busy working, spending time with friends and family, and just relaxing with a good book. I haven’t been writing for this blog (sorry), working on my nonfiction book, or organizing a workbook idea I have. I keep thinking I just don’t have the inspiration, but that is not true. I’ve forgotten that this blog is for writing for writing’s sake. I need to free write more and not always wrap this blog around with bipolar disorder or that is all you will define me as. This blog’s purpose might be centered on making people more aware about bipolar disorder, but it doesn’t have to be just about that. I’m not just about that and this should be more about me. So this post is about perfection and the fact that I don’t always have to be perfect.