I've never been totally, completely fine. I don't think any of us ever have. It just doesn't surface until later, when it gets us in trouble.
In kindergarten through third grade, my perfectionistic tendencies began cooking. For every assignment, I envisioned a grand, glorious masterpiece of an end result. I thought that if I worked hard enough, I could be the next great artist, author, anything. Of course, I did not have the time to achieve my expectations, and that was frustrating. It was frustrating to look at what was accomplished, and what could have been accomplished.
Towards the end of my elementary school career and into middle school, my perfectionistic tendencies began to boil. I obsessed over projects that, to me then, were the bane of my existence. For art projects and posterboard presentations, ghostly pencil lines ensured the placement of each part was just right. For narrative essays, the ultimate topics were chosen through extensive pro/con lists (weighing the value of each pro or con was the most taxing, questionable part). Then, I'd write, and attempt to whittle my stories down to solid, well-formed structures (sooo difficult; there are so many ways to go with structure!). Finally, infinite revisions. I obsessed so much over my projects that I never felt happy with them. If I didn't work on them, I felt guilty and plagued by my expectations; if I did work on them, there were always more details to worry about and more imperfections to fix.
Now, in college, my perfectionistic tendencies are burning. My expectations are higher than ever; I want each paper to be some sort of transformative, cathartic, summary-of-the-human-experience sort of experience. And I have less time than ever. It's becoming a war within myself, cheesy as it may sound. If I just do my work on time like a normal human being, then I'm preventing myself from achieving my full potential; if I go with my instincts and attempt to execute my beautiful ideas, then I'm not going to finish my work. Logically, it's best to find a balance in between the two, but whatever makes my decisions for me is anything but logical. I do not want to choose or sacrifice, so I freeze. I freeze and let go of all my responsibilities and enter a miserable, depressive mode.
I'm not sure where my perfectionistic tendencies will lead me next. I'm still stuck spiraling into this struggle, and I can't see a way out. It's difficult to summarize my internal conflicts in one article, and also unnecessary. I'm writing this because I know that some can and some cannot relate to this. I hope that those of you who had no idea now have an idea, and I hope that those of you who are in this will join me in my endeavors to get out.
Thank you.