I dislike first posts. Its stark contrast from the before and its lack of history makes it awkward for me to write. The first post marks a beginning, a start, the first step of the journey, but it also has to end for the rest to begin. As the cycle of procrastination and perfectionism goes, I struggle to write anything else because I haven’t taken that first step.

When I think about it, I fear that I’ll look back in utter embarrassment and shudder at what and how I wrote1. At the heart of it, is fear of not saying (or being) enough. It is me attempting to reach for perfection when imperfection is all I’ll ever grasp. I remember being a kid, trying to draw but being unable to progress past simple outlines. I wanted my drawings to be and appear perfect, and when it wasn’t, I would start over on a new page. In the end there was no drawing, just crumpled attempts lying on the floor. Nothing was ever good enough. I still see fragments of this behavior in my daily life, not quite as dramatic as my childhood example, but evident enough to know that it has deeply formed me and isn’t benefiting me as a person.

So, that’s what this is. Posting here is my attempt to deal with habits of mine that limit me. Also, at the end of the day this post it neither good or bad. It’s just a first post.

  1. My rational mind says this is inevitable. If there was no change then I should question whether I’m progressing. This, like most things, is easier said than done.