Member-only story
I like organized things. I like neat things. I like things that make sense, and I surely wish we existed in a perfect world. Of course, it would be boring as anything, and I imagine I’d prefer some disorder if things were perfect. I guess you always want what you don’t have. But I like things that are orderly, easy to define and understand, and clearly defined and understood by everyone.
That’s how I like myself. I want to present a box of perfection to other people. I want them to know exactly what I’m thinking and I want them to know exactly why I do the things I do. Some of it comes from a fear of being understood, but a lot of it just comes from a need to appear correct, reasonable, logical, and sensible. Not just so everyone will like me, but so that I like myself too.
I feel like I’ve been embracing this semi-true narrative of myself and seeing it as the whole truth. And by that I mean my personality type — I’m severely Type A and that’s okay. But sometimes it means I’m so rigid that I can’t forgive myself or allow myself any room for error. One “tenet” of my personality type is that I stick to my word, and I think I embrace it so heavily to the point that any misstep results in sheer panic. I hate myself, the rest of my day is ruined, and I begin assigning negative feelings and words to myself. It’s like I’m not allowed to mess up. I’m not allowed to change my mind, which is funny because if one of my things is to have a reason for everything I do, then why can’t I change my mind if I have a good…
