There’s this picture in my head. It’s a lovely, goodlooking picture I drew of myself long time ago. When things are not going your way, it’s good to have a thing to look for. This thing was me. A new me. A good me. Perfect. Balanced. Honest. True to the self. True at all.
It’s the bane of those perfectionists always wanting to be –perfect. On the inside and the outside. So I made an arrangement with myself. The arrangement contains to let personal, nerve-wrecking things of my inner life out of the outer life. I know when it’s time to keep silent. It’s just so hard to stick with it.
Because this is one part of being a perfectionist: when all the facade is gone, you feel you can let go of it all at once, unbeknownst that you will overwhelm people with so much truth of yourself. So there’s always this switch between a perfect outside on the one side and the letting go at once on the other. There’s a deep trench inbetween. And everyone will slip off.
Still I have no clue of how to fill this trench with earth.
All I know is that, sometimes, there are situations, and people, who give you the feeling that you can let go. You can’t do anything against it. At first, you fight against your inner arrangement, but step by step you start to think differently. It’s just one look, just one sentence that can make people forget about all arrangements. It loses its matter. It’s not important anymore. Not now. Not here. Someone or something created such a perfect surrounding for you which you didn’t expect. That’s what overwhelmes you. There’s an invisible power that makes you feel safe. Feeling safe and neither letting go nor sticking to the perfect outside is the earth to fill the trench with. And it’s so seldom! You should grab it with your hands and take all you can carry. Being that lucky is so rare.
– – Phoenix – Love for granted – –