Dear Lindsay...

Dear Lindsay,

Hey! How are you? Pretty good? Well, that's nice but I don't really care, actually. Your well-being isn't exactly my top priority. Rather, I'm in favor of your total demise. That's right, it's me, I'm back! Miss me much?

Here's how I roll these days. I get into your head and convince you to feel like a failure. That choir you're about to sing in tomorrow (ActorCor, 5pm at All Souls Church, it's FREE!) well, I can almost persuade you that you don't belong in it because you don't read music! I can also make you feel so sorry for yourself that your voice is a little strained thanks to your intenSati teaching and the subarctic NYC temperatures that resulted in your catching a cold (weakling). I help ya think thoughts that make you feel jealous you aren't a soloist and envious of the people whose voices are classically trained and stunning. Yeah, I can do a biiiiiiiiig number on you!!

I like to cut you little or no room for slack. Little or no room to be human. Little or no room to try things and -- GASP!! -- make mistakes. I can make you believe your efforts to meet your soul mate and get married are futile. That hurts, doesn't it?

When it comes to appearance, nothing you've got is ever good enough. Especially now that you teach fitness and you're wearing those tight little pants and spandex tops every day. I don't care that you are healthy and gorgeous, with all bodily systems functioning and healed. I do my best to help you ignore that miracle. I will even make you think you need botox at 32. Aren't I sly?!

You're really creative and smart, so I like to get in there and steal your creativity. Hijack it, basically. This way, I can really elaborate theories about why you're destined to fail and live a life unlived unless you do things purrrrrrrfectly! I am like a sly cat or cheetah, indeed.

So, let's cut to the chase. The chase is this: YOU need ME. You need me. You need me to advance, pursue goals, succeed, self actualize, realize your greatness, la la la. I mean, what would you be, who would you be, without ME?! You'd be nothing! That's right! NOTHING! You would never figure anything out without me, period.

Oh shit, do I sound a little desperate?

Well, look, fine. I'll be honest. You've actually been a tough nut to crack, lately. I mean, look, the real reason I'm writing is this...argh, this is hard...well, OK, it's like lately I feel you've just been ignoring me. You've been doing things that really reveal and reflect your imperfection. You are just letting yourself have some ups and downs. You're taking risks and doing creative work that isn't comfortable for you and you're learning how to be a healthy adult who competes to do her own best, rather than live in constant competition against others. You're taking these steps to learn new things and grow and, my god, you're just trying to be happy and appreciative of being alive. How is THAT connected to WINNING anything?! It's not! I mean, ugh, it's just, so, so, so..

I'm not finished.

To add insult to injury, you're, like, getting stuff done. I've heard that I am actually the enemy of done. I used to get you to procrastinate or work yourself into a compulsive, workaholic, sleep deprived tail spin tizzy! Now, even if you go down there for a bit you come right back as if repelled by the opposite pole of a magnet and you find people who support you in reaching, uggggh, here's another word I loathe...

BALANCE

You are starting to close the door on me.

I feel pissed off about that, to tell you the truth!

So much so, as a matter of fact, that I may have to find someplace else to go. Perhaps meet a different person because this just isn't working out and we're no longer on the same page and MY PAGE IS BETTER.

Omg, I have an idea! I'm going to go bother someone so bad that she's going to make herself starve or throw up, just because she can't stand being in her own imperfect skin. Yes, VICTORY!

Oh.

I get it.

I know, I know, you refuse to go back there and I'm like the Pony Express to Eating Disorderland, so, yeah, I get it...

This is good-bye, isn't it?

Fine.

Don't miss me much.

-Perfectionism