I used to be a perfectionist but I’m not now.
Hang on – should that be I’m not anymore?
I used to be a perfectionist but I’m not anymore.
Hmmmm. Let me try again.
So, I’m ordering my dinner at my favourite cafe when, out of the blue, the smiley woman serving me says: “Ah you’re really nice you, Alun.”
It was a sincere, generous compliment, given spontaneously, and it was lovely to receive.
“Come on bus! Come on!”
That was me on the bus yesterday evening.
Earlier, while waiting for it, I was saying “be the bus, be the bus” every time I saw headlights emerge in the darkness from around the corner.
Boundaries have never been my strong point.
I’ve always been too fearful of hurting others, or too worried of being judged to stand up for what I really want.
Sometimes the consequences are fairly trivial, such as staying in a conversation too long.
I’ve been feeling pretty purposeless of late – an unusual feeling for me. I typically wake up enthused by a to-do list waiting to be worked through, and projects to get done. Lately though, there’s a real sense of drift.
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