I’m scared and amused at the same time.

Scared because here I am, writing my very first blog post. On my new website about perfectionism. And because I’m a gradually recovering perfectionist, I am—big surprise—afraid that it won’t be perfect. Amused because I’ve developed enough self-awareness to laugh at myself and think, “Sheesh. There I go again.”

So with great anticipation, excitement, and—yes!—definitely some discomfort and uneasiness, I’d like to welcome you to my new blog.

If you’re one of the folks along for the beginning of the journey—hi there, and thanks! For cheering me on, and for walking some of the way with me as I venture out into the wilds of Bloggery.

If you’ve discovered me later on by following a link or someone’s recommendation, or doing a web search—well, I’m ecstatic that you found me, because it means that my past is now talking to your present, which also means my blog and website still exist! So that is (will be? hmm…) very thrilling to me. Welcome!

This should be an exciting journey, because I’m damn well going to make it that way. First of all, I’m leaving my map behind. (Excuse me—brief pause while I wrestle the keyboard away from my Inner Control Freak, who just went into panic mode at that statement and tried to delete it.)

I should probably introduce my Inner Control Freak, who you’ll probably get to know if you hang out here a while. She doesn’t have a name (yet, though I’m not excluding the possibility), but she’s been known to make me print directions from both Mapquest and Expedia when I’m going somewhere new . . . just to be safe and make sure that both sources agree with each other. Or if they don’t, bonus! I can shave three whole minutes off the trip by going one way instead of the other, and that’s three more precious minutes I can spend Being Productive on a Current To-Do Item in my never-ending quest to Get It All Done! (Of course whenever I point out that keying in the addresses, printing, and retrieving both sets of directions takes longer than four minutes, my dear overprotective ICF rolls her eyes and says, “Now you’re just being difficult.”)

So anyway, no maps. And no travel guides or dictionaries, either. I’m going to explore the strange country of Bloggery as I go, learning its language and customs as I travel, rather than wringing the life out of the journey by trying to gain a dry intellectual understanding of the culture before I even set foot across the border.

In fact, instead of a compass, I’m packing my new spontaneometer. That’s right—it’s a nifty little device that will guide me not by my location in reference to some arbitrarily constructed system of coordinates, but by how I feel about what is happening around me. Instead of pointing north, the spontaneometer constantly points toward unstructured, spur-of-the-moment joy. The closer I orient myself to that direction, the happier I should be. Or so the box it came in says. We’ll see.

I would definitely enjoy having some companions on my journey, though.

I’m pretty easygoing and I get along well with most people, so if you’re interested, I’d probably enjoy having you along whoever you are. But what I’d really love is to gather a whole group of people who are struggling with perfectionist tendencies like I am. People who might like some of the by-products (being organized, prepared, respected for your accomplishments, etc.), but who are tired of feeling like they’re never good enough, fast enough, thorough enough, committed enough to excel at everything they “should” do or be as wonderful in every respect as they “should” be. People who, like me, are starting to suspect the validity of all those shoulds. Who are beginning to realize that by believing them, we’re “shoulding” ourselves in the foot, so to speak.

I think we’ll have a lot to talk about, and a lot of experiences to share. I even have some tips and tricks to share with you based on what I’ve learned so far.

So what do you say? Are you up for an adventure? I was careful to stock up before hitting the publish button (you know how we perfectionists are), and I’ve got pith helmets, cargo pants and spontaneometers to go around. If you’d like to join me, grab whatever you need and let’s go!