Compulsive drive

I get these  compulsions that I feel I have limited control over. Like right now. The push to write a post was pressing the inside of my brain, sinking my stomach and making it difficult for me to think about anything else. That is why I am not driving, instead leaving it to Mr. A. I feel like a thick fog is surrounding my thoughts and vision much like that which is surrounding our car on this drive back to Canberra from a therapeutic weekend at the coast. 

 I get fixated on

Writing the best.     Cleaning everything

Mothering perfect.     Performing 

Even though I know that the expectations I had on myself are wholly unrealistic, I cannot seem to help the urge, compulsion, need to do SOMETHING, all the things NOW. And to the highest standards and performance there possibly could be.

Writing has been so helpful but I am focusing on rigidity rather than truth.


Not for myself, but in order to meet presumed expecations. I am obsessed about writing. I get like this with any new outlet. When I discovered that I could transcribe guitar chords by ear I devoted all day, every day to practicing this skill. Similarly with writing and recording original songs. A few years ago I became fixated, wrote and recorded at home a bunch of songs then published them for my family. I no longer practice either of these skills as I feel inadequate in their respective social circles. 


I actively seek appreciation and if it is not indicative of the work being the best, then I crumble. What do you mean that you didn’t notice I cleaned the kitchen?!? It obviously looks more hygienic than the bathroom. This reassurance seeking is also compulsive. I will suggest, post, comment relentlessly until I achieve feedback.


Should I have worn that outfit? Changed my blog name? Looked at that person? I am often impulsive in making decisions that I perceive  might affect the outcome. And then obsess and lament for days. Like today. All day and last night was spent thinking about the change to the blog name. I wish I could say that a great deal of thought went into it, but it was truthfully, an impulsive choice. I don’t know what I want this to be, but I wanted it to be known. My brain had an attack of thoughtlessness – a condition bed by years of self-doubt.

Well I feel a bit better having purged the experience of compulsiveness. It is something that plagues Mr. A and I, and has done so for years. And this self-deprecation that means I feel I need constant reassurance and self-distrust. This is something I don’t want Master X learning, but it is also something that I have not been conscious of until now.

So perhaps the fog served a purpose on this drive from the coast back to Canberra. And look, now it’s cloudy with specks of blue

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