On Abandoning Perfectionism
I no longer fit the diagnostic criteria of bipolar disorder.
I’ve been to two psychologists to confirm it. I don’t think it’s fair to say I’m cured. It’s likely more accurate to assume I’ve found a good balance that’s working.
I am regimented, after all.
- I never allow myself too little sleep: I am strict about getting seven to ten hours and listen when my body tells me it needs more rest. Lack of sleep is one of the biggest bipolar triggers, so plenty of it is my way of staying out of the hospital. I don’t diverge.
- I have learned to validate my emotional responses to life and lovingly investigate. Which often requires leaving limitations behind that I have accepted as reality.
- I take complete responsibility over my life and myself—too much, I’ve recently begun to feel. I have tipped into the realm of control, hoping to be so on top of everything that nothing can catch me by surprise.
I have watched myself become serious in this quest to ensure an outcome that cannot be designed, only experientially walked through.
One night, I realized—joint flicking from hand as I watched my cold breath dance with smoke—this side of me is fear parading about as a cure for my disorder, life, and the vast unknowable future.
I have spent so much time getting to this plateau of stability; I am terrified of finding myself in the mudslide.
I am Captain Capable in everything—work, music, finances, relationships, household—doing what needs to get done. Too often deprioritizing presence, play, and self-care.
I ensure I get plenty of sleep. But I haven’t been practicing letting go.
The stress manifested as an eye twitch I couldn’t out-sleep. I applied Captain Capable’s superpowers to every aspect of my life and started to find less pockets of joy in the everyday. I put a finish line around the corner, always the next corner.
I subtly and over time began to expect everything I do to have an equal result. I’m 2000 percent in. Effort = accomplishment. But we all know that isn’t true.
The Pareto principle suggests that 80% of outcomes come from 20% of our efforts. It's the idea that the most impactful results come from focusing clearly on the few essential things that make the greatest difference.
If I want to slow down and welcome presence back into my life, I have to choose the things that matter to me and diligently say “no” to the rest.
I haven’t been on Instagram or TikTok in two months.
I no longer feel any desire to return, aside from the pervasive idea that I must create content for my music business. To which I say, perhaps.
But it’s also possible to define success in multiple ways and I want to try what fits me. (If I do return for my business, it will be a means of distributing and promoting music videos, and I’ll likely use a scheduler to avoid needing the apps on my phone.) In other words, I no longer wish to be a participant.
Instead, I’ve found myself reading daily before work and even during my winter work break. I spent a whole day reading (four and a half hours!) simply because it was the most romantic, delicious thing that I wanted to do.
Maybe it’s silly to equate one change to the other. But it seemed to happen so naturally that in the absence of scrolling, I returned to books. In doing so, I’m inhabiting the world I want to live in.
Which is where I’m getting to with all of this.
I became careful, I think, to try and forever prevent the bottom of my life from falling out again. For all intents and purposes, my lack of current diagnosis suggests I’ve succeeded.
But in trying to prevent something scary, I had to limit my window of potential experience in the name of safety. Then I applied this strategy to everything, not just getting enough sleep.
But with a clean bill of health and the recognition that maintaining this balance is still important, I am left wondering how I might take the training wheels off again.
I want to reconnect with the invincible nineteen year old who drove from Iowa to Oregon by themself. Who saw adventure in every change on the horizon.
They have a lot of teach me and I’m finally ready to release and move forward into the great expanse of what could be, who I am, and how good life can feel.
Release and float
This groundlessness
is not painful
It is uncomfortable
but it can become familiar
It can become your
strength.
Allow weightlessness
and release
what you’re holding
tightly onto.
It will not disappear
because you do not watch it
Seeds grow with nurturing
and time. Waste not
your worry.
It’s not guidance
you can rely on.
Release and float. Release
and float.
Unclench your body,
Ease your mind,
Unlatch your soul
See you, flourish
What I’m Reading
The House in the Cerulean Sea
“It is like being wrapped up in a big gay blanket. Simply perfect.” – V. E. Schwab.
If you want to believe in love and goodness again, I must recommend this book. Linus Baker is a case worker for The Department In Charge Of Magical Youth. A diligent worker of seventeen years, he’s assigned to observe a highly classified orphanage on a island by the sea. What ensues is nothing short of delightful.
This was my second read in preparation for reading the sequel. The first time, I read the entire book on a flight to and from Austin.
I only loved it more the second.
As always, thank you for reading. Happy new year!
With love and badassery,
Conner Lee