Fear Of Failure

Yesterday's post reminded me of the quote, "what would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?"

I've talked before about how much of a perfectionist I am, how I set myself up for "failure" by striving towards standards I can never meet, how I never feel good "enough".

When I was younger, I worked hard at school and my music and would interpret it as a major catastrophe if I didn't excel...even 100% wasn't enough. I always felt I could have done better. Since my eating disorder became a major issue in my life, aside from the perfectionistic drive towards food/weight goals, things have changed. I'm now almost scared to TRY because I *know* I won't meet the standards I set. The thought of not being good enough has prevented me from doing countless things- applying for jobs, going back to school, etc. The times I HAVE taken on jobs or returned to studying, regardless of how well I am doing, the fear that I'll be "caught out" as some kind of fraud who is deep down completely useless, is paralysing. My anorexia has flourished during these times- it just seems easier to have to quit the job/drop out of school because I am sick rather than wait for a time when I have to face the fact that I am too stupid/lazy/useless. I should point out that I've never waited very long- I can be getting 100% on every test, but it feels false, like NEXT time I'll fail, and it hasn't been a risk I've wanted to take. By retreating into the shadow of anorexia, I have a valid excuse to not go any further and avoid the risk of failure.

I'm not quite sure how to get over this hurdle. I need to figure out a way to stop worrying so much- it doesn't MATTER if I am not absolutely perfect. Nobody IS! So easy to say, yet so much harder to believe and accept. I need to find a way to value myself outside of external achievements...to know that I deserve to eat, be healthy and happy, regardless of what position I hold/what awards I have won. To take pleasure in the things I do, and like I mentioned recently, ENJOY THE RIDE without so much anxiety over the ultimate results.

Question of the day: What have you done recently that you were scared of even attempting in case it didn't go to plan?..

The Life I Want To Remember

I re-read yesterday's post this morning (thank you for your comments- I love checking my mail in the morning and seeing your responses!) and it got me thinking about the kind of life I *want* to remember.

I'm doing okay at the moment in terms of managing my eating disorder, slowly making progress, but kind of feeling like that's my full-time occupation right now. An investment in the future for SURE, but I don't buy into the train of thought that you are always in recovery/just one step away from a full-blown relapse.

Perhaps I am being naive and overly-optimistic, but I want MY life to have purpose and meaning. NOT on the scale of winning Nobel prizes (lol) but I do want to feel like am making a difference somewhere. Go to bed each night knowing that I have helped changed things for the better- more than just the satisfaction that anorexia gave me ("only ate xxx today") and more than I am doing now ("I resisted the urge to do yyy today").

Just general musings on having a life worth living.

I don't know what shape or form this is going to take. I've drifted from one job to another, from one class to another, trying to figure out where I belong, what I want to DO with my life. I think as long as I feel so aimless, relapses are far more likely because I honestly don't know where else to feel like I am achieving something, working towards something.

This leaves me in a difficult position- having written off anorexia as *ever* giving my life any substantial meaning...all that seems left is a huge blank canvas and I'm not sure what to paint on it.

So my question for all you beautiful people out there today, is: what gives YOUR life purpose and meaning?

New Year, New Start

I've been impressed reading people's new year's resolutions on their blogs. I'm not one for making resolutions at the start of a new year- I tend to set goals as I go along, and continuously reassess if they are working, and what tweaks need to be made.

Apparently that is my problem.

Always switching gears, changing direction. Ploughing forward with one thing, fumbling, giving up/burning myself into the ground, falling flat on my face and retreating into the shadows once more. I never really thought about it like this. I always viewed it as a personal failure- evidence of my own sheer inadequacy, rather than perhaps considering that I have bitten off more than I can chew ('scuse the pun!). Time after time, I plunge forward then wonder why I lose my footing- why *I* can't cope with what other people can.

I had therapy today and I think it has been the most productive as yet. I've been seeing this therapist on and off for about 3 years now. The "on and off" has been due to me coming back to Scotland for just a few months at a time before setting off on a new adventure. She's seen the ups and downs, the plunges and falls, the building up and crumbling down. Today we looked back and I saw it too. The pattern of starting slowly, then as soon as I feel slightly more stable, feeling guilty that I am not doing more/achieving more...hell, BEING more. The perfectionist in me leaps out and I run to the next thing. I can do voluntary work for 4 hours a week? Okay- after a month I'll move to a different country and work 60 hours a week. I can make a balanced breakfast without support? Okay- I'll move into my own place and take on the world.

Seriously. This seems to be how I work.

The challenge now, having recognised it, is to change this pattern. Commit to take things slow. Assess, with my therapist, how it's going. To bitch and whine about the "itchy feet". To recognise the need to strive for more (and more and more and more) without acting on it. To ignore the thoughts about other people judging me, thinking I am lazy/stupid/crazy/useless. Ignore the assumption that everyone expects me to move out and get a job and do all the things *I* feel I should be doing right now.

It's day 1 and I am already struggling. I feel guilty for flicking through facebook when I could be filling out job application forms. I feel guilty for watching TV when I should be house hunting. I feel guilty listening to my therapist and following her advice because I'm worried that I am using it as an excuse to be lazy, to do too little. I want to move out, to get a job, to just be NORMAL and it's painful to think that *this* might be the way to DO just that, in a sustainable way.

It's quite the challenge. Sounded easy in her office, but oy...just a few hours later and I'm climbing the walls.

Life Isn't A Game. There Are No Winners.

Wow...it feels like a long time since my last post, and it feels almost foreign right now as I read it back. A lot happened after writing my previous entry. I ended up back in hospital for a few days. It was decided that I could be discharged on the understanding that I return to Scotland and live with my mom. The alternative was to stay in the acute psychiatric unit until the eating disorders team picked up my treatment (they were offering 10 outpatient sessions, starting in January). None of the options appealed much, but I decided that moving back to Scotland would be the best bet for now. For a few reasons. All of which I seem to have forgotten since my plane landed last night.

BUT, as unhappy as I am about living with my mom again, I am feeling a strange sense of optimism. London felt almost as New York did last summer- one knock-back after another, doors closed in my face, everything just crumbling.

I did have some amazing conversations whilst I was in the hospital and in the day following my discharge. Not with psychiatric patients, not with mental health professionals, not with my family. But with people my age who I happened to meet (where they worked- in Starbucks, at the airport, or on the bus). I don't know quite what it was about these conversations that touched me so deeply. Perhaps how peaceful they felt. They didn't have high-flying jobs. They didn't live in great apartments, struggle to get through each day. They seemed content with what they had. They were a pleasure to talk to, to be with. Just to have NORMAL conversations about random stuff. I don't know if it was just the stark contrast between the thoughts tumbling around my head at the time and the mundaneness of everyday life, but it really did make me think about my situation and how I am NEVER content with what I have. I put a tremendous amount of pressure on myself in any given situation to be the best, to strive harder, to push further. Inevitably my standards become completely unattainable and I shrink back into the shadows of my eating disorder because I *know* I am good at that.

So, yes. Being around for the last week has introduced me to a world that was (and still mostly is) alien to me. A world of contentment, acceptance, recognising what is REALLY important, what life is REALLY about. No, our conversations didn't get to that level ;) BUT just interacting with these people has opened my eyes a little and given me lots of food for thought...

There's Always Tomorrow

I'm having a really hard time right now with relaxing. The concept is foreign to me- I don't know HOW to relax. I feel this overwhelming sense of urgency to be constantly productive, constantly achieving *something*, constantly doing something/anything that is going to get me somewhere in life. I don't know how to just kick back, relax and enjoy life for what it is. My mind is constantly whirring- where I should be, what I should be doing, how next to make some grand leap from where I am to where I want to be.

I feel like I am missing out.

I see people sitting in Starbucks, absorbed in a book, or just gazing out the window. I get my coffee "to go" and run through the streets as if I actually have to be somewhere oh-so-important, because to sit down and just relax in the moment terrifies me. What if I miss out on some golden opportunity? What if people think I am lazy? What if I run late on my self-imposed schedule?

SO WHAT? Does it really matter what other people think? Does it really matter if I get home at 4:15 instead of exactly 4:00pm? Does it really matter if I DON'T respond to that email as soon as it lands in my inbox?

I need to figure out a way to have more balance and relaxation time. I'm not working/studying at the moment and the guilt that comes with that is overwhelming. Truth is, I've been signed off sick. I SHOULD be resting more. I SHOULD be taking things slower and letting myself heal. Why is it so hard? Because I'm scared. I'm scared to stop because my thoughts start to consume me. I'm scared of what my family will think/say. I'm scared of letting people down. I'm scared of being perceived as lazy, self-indulgent, useless. I'm scared that if I 'stop', I'll never 'start' again. I'm scared to be by myself in case...in case of 'what' I don't know. Just scared to stop and think and feel and just let things wash over me...scared of the complacency that might bring, even if it isn't necessarily a bad thing to bring a little more apathy into my world.

Nothing is so important that it's worth getting sick over. Nothing (in my life, at this point) is so urgent that it can't wait an hour or two. The people that may or may not judge me have their own issues, and I need to figure out what's right for me. When it's okay to sit down and watch TV for an hour. When it's okay to skip my morning run because it's pouring or just because I don't feel like it. When it's okay to not go to 6 different grocery stores and just make do with what is available in the nearest one. When it's okay to close down my laptop for the day and relax knowing I'll deal with the rest of my emails tomorrow.

There's always tomorrow.

Most stuff can wait.

Reality is a difficult concept to grasp

I have a rather nasty habit of setting goals, without giving much thought to what happens once I achieve them. This in itself isn't a problem. The problem is that I focus so much on obtaining what I want, that there is, without fail, a huge anti-climax once I get to the point I have been striving towards. An anti-climax for me means I fall apart*.

I think that the key to lifting my depression has been by setting goals. Without anything to aim for, I flail wildly, not sure what to do with myself. Then I pin all my hopes on that one thing that is going to give my life meaning. It works. For a while. Then I work my ass off to get there before realising that maybe, it wasn't quite what I wanted after all. It wasn't what I thought. It wasn't as I'd planned. It didn't live up to my expectations. I spent so long fantasising about how wonderful everything would be, that it didn't occur to me that maybe my expectations verged on unrealistic.

For several years I lived and breathed for the chance to live in New York. I did *everything* to make it happen- then got there and my world came crashing down. My job was a nightmare, my apartment was hell, the city itself made me manic, and I returned home a quivering heartbroken wreck. Spent a month in bed, angry and frustrated with myself, the situation, before deciding that I had tried. I made it happen- I had a goal and I achieved it. I told myself that was a GOOD thing, and for the most part, I still believe that. I swore that I would return to New York, better prepared, and THIS time would be different. That happened too. I went back and it was different. I was different. My job was different. My apartment was different. The experience was different. Better? In some ways. Definitely not how I planned it, and that year in the big apple was disastrous on oh-so-many levels, and again, I returned, angry, frustrated and heartbroken.

I'm writing this now because I am planning on returning to New York in April. Third time lucky (or so I've been telling myself). Each time I've gone, I've learned SOMETHING. maybe this time it'll work out? And yet all day I've been planning for when it all falls apart and what self-destructive path I can then walk down. I've mentioned before that I live for external achievements. The qualification, the perfect weight, the right job, the best apartment...which goes against everything I stand for as a person. Those things don't matter to *me* and yet I have no other way to define myself. And the more I feed into the whole mindset, the more I set myself up to come crashing down again.

Reality is never going to match up to my fantasies, and that's a bitter pill to swallow. I want everything to be perfect. I want to be perfect. I just don't quite know how to define perfection.


* seems I spend a lot of my time "falling apart"... Superglue, anyone?