Prologue

I am a bona fide perfectionist. My family and friends can testify - they've heard my precept on loop: If you're not going to do it properly then don't do it at all. Which I don't think is a bad way to go about things, except that in my case, properly really means perfectly (case in point: I deleted and rewrote the previous three sentences at least 10 times).

So it's no surprise that I heard the universe speaking directly to me when I read Elizabeth Gilbert's words in Big Magic: "I think perfectionism is just a high-end, haute couture version of fear." WHAM! Here's the thing, I believe that the universe speaks to you in whispers - when you don't listen, it starts to yell and when you continue to ignore her, she knocks you upside the head. The universe could not have communicated to me any clearer. If Gilbert is right, perfectionism has been disguising my fear in a Chanel gown my entire life.

At 42 I finally have the courage to strip down to my birthday suit and let my fear flag fly. This blog is step one.