For a while, my therapist and I had agreed that I should write about the mental and emotional struggles I’ve had in my life. I went to a few sessions without bringing anything written. I kept telling him I was thinking about it, but other than a few random lines, I hadn’t really written anything.
Then in our last session, he said something that really helped me. He said: just do it. Even if the result is awful, it’s still better and more useful than not doing it at all.
So I did exactly that. I stopped judging what I was writing all the time and just wrote. And some surprising things came out of it. I noticed which memories and events my mind had kept vivid, and which ones had become faded and blurry. I also started to understand how my anxiety began in childhood and what shape it took back then.
Instead of talking about doing it, I finally started doing it. And I want to take the same approach with a lot of other things too. Perfectionism has held me back a lot in life, but I feel like a new version of me is starting to appear, and every day I’m practicing being a little more brave. I want to go to sleep each night knowing that, out of all the things I want to do, I managed to do at least one of them not perfectly, but as well as I realistically could right now.
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