THOUGHTS // Perfectionism and Resistance

 
Ashley Thalman and Painted Backdrops

I lost it last night. I tore into myself and called myself names and gave myself labels that I have worked to keep away. Nothing was safe. My dreams, art, roles, my heart, friends, my skin, my past, my gifts, beliefs, my paths-all under attack. The resistance is real and it builds, attacking in quiet and even triumphant times.

And you know what? When I’m in the middle of all this, it actually feels “right”, it feels “true”, like this loathing is the actual reality. It is convincing. Pressfield says, “the resistance will bury you.” And in the truest sense it is real, it’s the other half of the whole.

Polarity demands the expression of itself, perfectionism be damned. Its very job is to bury us. And no one and nothing is exempt.

Last night I let it all out, tears and words, regrets and horror in a blended whisper of my own messy me. My Matthew match held still and listened as it all came exploding out in a terrifying and quiet breathless ache. No interruptions, no solutions. His steadiness takes work. To feel terror and disgust and to allow it to fill a room and believe that it will end and be alchemized to a new life takes work. Being buried and resurrecting from that burial, takes everything from us to ensure surrender and then survival.

This morning I feel clean. I feel like a more self-loved version of myself. This way, is the only way. Polarity, contrast, the bitter for the sweet. The resistance builds, we beat it back, it demands that we sit with it sorrowing in boundless grief. The seasons and sun rise and we with them, initiating us and proving us as we move along the cycles of life, death, and life again.