Years ago, my therapist asked me what I did for fun. I had to think about it for a while, which, by the way, is a sign that you might not be having too much fun in your life. Finally, I told her that my idea of fun was folding laundry while simultaneously watching Country Music Television. Having something productive to do while watching TV, which I considered unproductive through the lens of perfectionism, somehow made the act permissible.
Well, my therapist immediately wrote me a prescription to have 30 minutes of fun every day.
Pure fun, just for the fun of it. I said, “Every day?” and hoped that she wouldn’t hold me to it. But she did. At that point in my life, perfectionism was beating me into the ground and not having fun was a big part of that. I was setting myself up for a heart attack by age 35. I had to have fun to save my life.
What do you need to do?
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hope, perfectionism, self-care