A while ago, two senior managers at the place I work, within the space of a week, referred to me as a perfectionist.
This took me completely by surprise. I always associated perfectionism with people that are also orderly and slightly obsessed with neatness, which is absolutely not how I am in my day to day life.
I relayed my surprise to my husband, who in turn was surprised at my surprise!
He pointed out to me that my strive for perfection lies not in how tidy our house is, or how neatly I fold my clothes or how good I am at filing (not as good as I used to be!), but in my expectations of myself and others.
I often feel under a lot of pressure. Mostly pressure to achieve something more or something different. But an honest reflection shows that most of that pressure is created by me.
If I work hard, and honestly, with passion and commitment, is it so wrong of me to expect exactly the same levels from everyone else around me?
Well, actually, yes…..
And so, in coming to terms with my less than perfect perfectionism, I realise that the reason I refer to myself as a secret writer, is that I do it inside my head.
This blog was started months ago, but this is the first time I have sat down to put words in print. The reason? If no-one reads it, no-one can say that I’m not good enough at writing.
So, the bigger question, what has made me start now? Well, the realisation that it doesn’t matter if some people don’t want to read my words, or don’t like them if they do. Some people might, and they are the people that will matter. More importantly, I want to write, because these words exist in my head, and they are no good to anyone there.
Paulo Coelho said “Writing is a socially acceptable form of getting naked in public”.
So here I am, taking the leap.