Saturday, September 19, 2015

OCD Swords

I think I have a problem.  It’s kind of a big deal…

I am a little OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder).  I think my hubby just snort laughed while reading this.  Honestly speaking, I am very OCD.  To the point that I demand perfection of myself.  It a dirty rotten habit and I don’t like it.  Sometimes I end up hurting myself in the pursuit of perfection and I can say, quite frankly, that this is not a good thing.

There are all different levels of perfection seekers. Let just say that I take the pursuit of perfection a little too far.  I am not hell-bent on winning.  I am bound and determined on being perfect.  There is a big difference.  I am that girl who spends a year training Martial Arts on a busted ankle.  I study relentlessly, I stay longer, work harder and clock in countless after hours.  I expect and welcome harsh criticism and frankly get a little upset with excessive praise.  I don’t like compliments.  Like, ever.  I want to be told what I did wrong so I can fix it.

Have a mentioned this is a problem?

But perfection is impossible. I should know.  I tried and I epically failed.  The video I am showing is of an absolutely perfect performance.  It’s me in that video.  I won first place for that performance, but I can tell you that I can pick out three places where I didn’t hit my mark exactly the way I wanted.  It mentally shattered me.  Stupid?  I know it is, but I’m OCD perfectionist, remember?

That gold put me in the running for division champ.  I am NOT going to post that video of that destroyed performance.  First of all, I haven’t watched it because the mere memory of it is mortifying enough.  I don’t need to confirm it by watching it.  I did not get angry at the girl who won.  Her performance was flawless and her grace and beauty left us all in the dust (Megan, you are amazing and I love you to pieces!).  But I was very angry with myself.  Why, if I could do it perfect once, could I not do it perfect a second time?

Why?  Because the curse of the OCD perfectionist is that I will never be good enough.  Even though I won gold.

So, I will dust myself off.  I will shine my sword and begin again.  I do it because I love it.  I do it because I owe it to myself to keep going.  I do it because my inner perfectionist tells me to get off my bottom and into the gym.  And I do it because giving up is not an option.

And I will live to perform again.

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