When I was younger, my imagination served me in much the same way it does now. I was always imagining a different life for myself. Whether it was through my imaginary friend (whose name I can't remember- I'm such a terrible friend) or through books or Barbies, I never wanted to be myself or have the life that I did. I would print out pictures of houses I wanted my family and I to live in (before the advent of Pinterest), go to open houses, and watch the realtor channel on Sundays. When I read books, I would dream that I was a character in that story. I got so lost in stories that one time while taking a reading test in grade school, I was so involved in the stories in the test that when I was done and looked up, I was the last one to finish and I didn't feel as if any time had passed. Then at night, I would create fake boyfriends and perfect lives in my head as I lulled myself to sleep with my perfect dreams.
And now I am an adult, and I still have dreams. They're slightly different, but not by too much. I still make up fake boyfriends; I still cast myself in fictitious worlds other people have created, except now I don'y read as much, so I insert myself into movies and t.v. shows; and I still dream of having the perfect house. But now, I also dream of a college degree, a dream job, and getting married someday, having children. Since I am an adult, I am in the position to make those dreams a reality. The only problem is I'm still dreaming.
I've always been a perfectionist. With that statement, you may be thinking, "Girl, since you're a perfectionist, you have all the drive in the world to follow your passions and bring your dreams to life." At least, that's what I always though a perfectionist was until about a year ago when I realized that perfectionists come in all shapes and sizes. I am the type of perfectionist who has such idealistic goals and dreams that I feel defeated before I even begin, and I don't try to accomplish anything I want to accomplish. I'm always resistant to start something because I'm afraid that it won't come out as perfectly as I want it to, so I don't begin that project or that class or that application. And that is a constant source of depression and regret for me.
There are so many things I want to accomplish in this life: I want to knit a hat, work for a non profit, be involved in a great church, explore Europe, etc. etc. But the way I view my life right now and what I am capable of doing, I don't think I can do any of those things. The paralyzing fear of it not turning out as it does in my head (plus my general anxiety disorder) is what keeps me trapped in my bed writing this, while my roommate is getting ready to go out and accomplish all she wants to in life. I wish I could be her.
I hope someday I will be able to work through this so I can become all that I want to become. Until then, thank you for reading this. It probably wasn't very entertaining or well written, but I found it extremely therapeutic, so thank you for being an audience for my therapy session. If you can relate to any of this at all, I would love to know; we can bond in the comments over all the things in life we're missing out on (she said with an awkward and slightly bitter laugh).
k, bye.
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