Perfection and Passion

I can't expect everything to be perfect.

This is my realization of the day. I had an appointment with my drug doctor today, and the crux of it is, I'm not 100% happy right now. Things are feeling kind of...stagnant. And the question I'm asking myself is, should I be? Should a bunch of little pills be making me totally, completely, all-consumingly blissful?

Nope.

I have to work at happiness, too. I have to put in some effort, and do more. No, I don't need to put tons of pressure on myself and pile on the goals, and I need to calm my tits, but I do need to do more that makes me happy and feel good. And less that makes me...not.

Anti-depressants are supplemental, they're not all-powerful. I think a part of me is almost waiting for some switch to flip until I'm really ready to make the final change and charge towards being the kind of person I think I can be. Till I'm perfect. This super productive, impressive, yoga-fied goddess, on the go, full of energy, positive and powerful. I keep thinking the right combo of drugs in the right dosage will kick in and turn me into some mighty mistress of awesome, but the only thing that will turn me into that person is me, and my willpower.

(I should really read that damn book.)

But you know, I also don't have to be that person, right? Not totally and completely. It's okay to be who I am just naturally part of the time too, which is a kind of a lazy, self-involved, goofy homebody.

But only some of the time...

I think a lot of it comes down to passion, really. Rediscovering it, redirecting it. I know I'm a passionate person, I see it in the way I act and love and live, but all too often I let those passions drift towards the unhealthy, the indulgent, the detrimental, and away from the nurturing and the challenging. Because of fear, of course, and because I like the safe and the familiar.

And I'm lazy.

It's just so much easier to be lazy.

Whenever I try for something, I try for perfection. It's my ultimate problem, I've discussed it often in therapy. I always have this image in my head of the best way things could be, the best person I could be. I make plans and I make schedules, I fantasize, I imagine a world where this perfect me achieves this perfect ideal and things are so much happier then. That ultimate goal is never going to be attainable, so when I try and try and you know, fail as I am inevitably going to, I get frustrated and disappointed and I spiral into self-loathing.

I'm incredibly predictable.

You've seen this before, if you've been reading my blog long enough.

And this happens with everything.

So what is it that I'm waiting for? The perfect combination of motivation and happiness to launch me into...what? A disconnected yogi who meditates all day, never goes online at night, drinks nothing but water and tea and reads until her eyeballs fall out of her skull?

Who says I have to be that person?

Baby steps, folks. I can mix good habits with the more indulgent. I can find myself some balance. That's what yoga's all about anyway, balance. Not perfection. Not forcing yourself into habits that don't suit you yet, straining to find some sort of meaning amongst a Spartan life.

Not that there's not something to be gained in all these goals and challenges I've set for myself, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that perhaps my motivation for it and my methods aren't the best right now. Maybe I don't have to be the best. And I don't have to be perfect.