It happens every few months:
I’m in the backseat of a car that I’ve never seen before. I can barely see out the windshield, and I have no idea how I’m reaching the pedals, but I’m somehow driving. I’m aware that there are cars all around me, and I also know that I’m dangerously close to the edge of the road. I keep trying to get into the front seat, but there’s no time. I keep driving blindly and then I hear the horrible sound of metal grinding on metal. I’m not sure if I’ve started riding the guardrail or if it’s another car ramming into me repeatedly. I feel impaired, and I’m not sure if it’s because I can’t see the road due to my position in the car or if I’m drunk. I am panicking and everything is terrible and I realize I’m a danger to myself and everyone else on the road.
I wake up so unbelievably freaking relieved that I’m not actually in a car but in bed. I recognize the familiarity of this particular nightmare and I start to analyze. I have no doubt that this is no random scary dream, but a meaning-filled reoccurrence. What does it mean? I’m not a dream expert but I have a few ideas.
Driving from the backseat, feeling completely out of control…this is how I sometimes feel about my life. I wonder if my subconscious senses that I’m feeling pretty okay about life right now. I’ve become comfortable with my day-to-day routine, I’m happy and relaxed, and…I’m stagnating. My subconscious comes right back up with a swift kick to the head and heart to remind me that deep down I’m an anxiety-ridden, reckless driver, taking a backseat and letting life drive me down the road, not my own choices.
This is the same subsconscious that I fight daily. The one that whispers “you’re not funny enough. You’re not artistic enough. You’re not a good enough wife. You’re not a good enough friend.” The one that finds me streaked with tears and feeling like a failure at the end of a great day. The one that no matter how hard I work at something or how proud I may be of an accomplishment reminds me that it’s never going to be good enough; there are always going to be things that I could and should do better.
And here’s the difficult part: I love getting better. I love working on myself, adapting, improving, finding new parts of myself regularly. But that’s not what I’m fighting. Because perfectionism doesn’t just make me want to improve. It robs me of any pride. It robs me of the ability to celebrate the moment. It makes me compare myself to everyone else in the room and point out every one of my own shortcomings. It’s not just a negative quality: it’s a damn sickness. I wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone. But I know that far too many of us struggle with it.
I try to focus on my own individual progress. I cultivate my own community that celebrates each other’s successes as we try to improve while sharing our stories and keeping it fun and lighthearted. I sometimes succeed. But every so often I wake up in the middle of the night and have to hold on to the edge of the bed, gasping for air, thanking God that I am not in the backseat of a car on a very crowded highway.
And that is the battle that wages with my subconscious. Or maybe it’s just a dream.
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I don’t have all the answers to ending the war with yourself yet, contrary to what the image on this post may have you believe, but I do have an awesome community who helps me with this every day. If you’re struggling with being a perfectionist, the comparison trap, or any other self-inflicted garbage, come join us! We are on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/groups/rebelsrise/
Progress not perfection is how rebels rise. 🙂
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