Wherever perfectionism is driving, shame is riding shotgun. Perfectionism is not about healthy striving, which you see all the time in successful leaders, it’s not about trying to set goals and being the best we can be, perfectionism is basically a cognitive behavioral process that says if I look perfect, work perfect, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid shame, ridicule, and criticism. It’s a defense mechanism.
"Why Doing Awesome Work Means Making Yourself Vulnerable"
So, I’ve been waiting for someone to explain this extremely simple concept to me my entire life.
Hooooly shit I needed to read this article.
"When I interview leaders, artists, coaches, or athletes who are very successful, they never talk about perfectionism as being a vehicle for success. What they talk about is that perfectionism is a huge trigger, one they have to be aware of all the time, because it gets in the way of getting work done."
Being good to each other is so important, guys.
that went in an unexpected direction
I don’t usually reblog stuff that’s not pony related, but I am in love with this post XD The art, writing and message are all top notch.
my life got about a thousand times better once i stopped censoring myself
and by censoring i don’t mean i suddenly embraced indiscriminate swearing; i mean i stopped trying to sugarcoat my past or my feelings; i stopped lying by omission; i stopped having guilty pleasures; i began unabashedly enjoying whatever i liked; i became very honest; i cut out of my life poisonous people and negative ideals, and i am so, so much happier for it
Sometimes you end up never speaking to someone who meant the world to you again. And that’s okay. You cope and you survive. Don’t let your losses keep you back from new gains.
Liz Climo on Tumblr.
this really cheered me up
I hate feeling sick. I have been sick for over a month and I just want to be better. I fucking hate that my immune system just gives up. I also hate how alone I am. I wish I had someone to just comfort me and offer support and sympathy and rub my fucking belly and stroke my hair until I fall asleep. Being single sucks. I’m feeling it. And I’m nauseous. The WORST feeling sick type sick there is.
I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the bus is coming.