A lot of the time I want to do something, make something, create, build. But I don’t. Because I’m afraid, afraid it won’t be good enough. That it won’t be perfect.
Whenever I do make something I am so happy. Writing this makes me happy, painting something crappy can make me happy. So why do I care if it’s perfect? When is good enough good enough I wonder?
My school career didn’t go as planned. I’ve often felt stuck and out of place. Like a major sufferer of imposter syndrome. You know, that feeling that you don’t belong somewhere.
“What am I doing at this art show? I know nothing about art! I don’t belong here, what if someone discovers me!”
For the longest time I felt like I didn’t belong at art school, and only recently I started to feel like I am on the right path. I love making things, and I would like to do it for the rest of my life, I belong there, I belong among the weird artsy crowd that hangs around because I’m just as weird, just a little different kind of weird.
Now I just need to learn to let go and enjoy the ride, not everything I do has to be perfect and on time. It’s okay to be late, it’s okay if it’s not the way I wanted it to be, It’s okay if I’m going to take a little longer to finish something.
What does perfection mean anyway? It’s different for every person. I don’t even have to be happy with what I made, I learn every step and there is no wrong turn that I can take. I can’t unlearn things.
I’m going to try harder, at trying less hard. I think doing what I love comes first. Not doing something that someone else may love.