Perfectionism may be killing me

Of course, I don’t mean literally. Well, maybe I do. I struggle to even write this now because I know you didn’t sign up to hear my pain. You are most likely on this email list because of participation in a Genesis Party, or because you know me personally. I do it anyways because I know you have a way out. You can unsubscribe if you don’t want to receive these meanderings, even though that freaks me out too. Hahaha! Oh, how fun it is to be human.

I’m sharing this now because it is a part of my healing artist journey. I’m making myself do things that don’t fit the mold perfectly, that don’t fit the “brand.” I’m seeking to be the most true to myself I can be. I think this is the artist’s work. Who am I without the need to be perfect? The truth is I don’t really know. Perfectionism has been a long-standing companion that has kept me “safe.” It has been my protector. I’m sure I come by it honestly.

Why am I sharing this here though? Because we are all human beings, and as Nicole Sachs says in “Mind Your Body,” there is no cure for the human condition. I want to be transparent as to what is happening behind the scenes as we grow and share more music. This is my healing process to writing more, sharing more, and worrying far less. More showing up as if my voice actually matters. No more hiding under a blanket of existentialism because that’s “easier”.

I’m sure you’ve all heard to share your story because it may help one other person. I haven’t always believed that I even had a story to share. That can really block an artist, and it has definitely blocked this artist. Now, I’m working to share in real time. This is the story right now. I’m seeing my patterns. I’m loving myself through it. I’m allowing the emotions to surface. I’m giving them a name. I’m doing the work one day at a time.

At the same time, I’m recognizing that I’m not fast enough. I hear myself regret not doing this sooner or not being better already. This is part of the desperation to fix every hole I have in life because of perfectionism. I’m writing this to steady myself, to slow down, to accept what is, and perhaps influence one person into the same.

I’m not perfect. I never have been. I’m now working to accept myself for who and where I am in this moment. The person that doesn’t write a story like Joni Mitchell or fearlessly mine my shadow quite like Maynard J. Keenan does. I can no longer not share my work because I’m not as good as my idols. Even the great Maynard says he could’ve done better at writing one of my favorite and most epic songs. I guess we are all our own worst critics.

This is the work: quieting that inner critic with its harsh “reality” delivered in my own voice. Working on giving myself the same compassion I offer to any other person in the same position. I have to remember that what once protected me is now killing me slowly, and if I don’t stop to pay attention, life will leave me behind again. So, I’m grabbing life’s hand like it’s done in the K-dramas I so love. Slowly, sensually, with a little fear and a lot of anticipation. I’m also doing a lot of breathing. Breathing is my greatest accomplice, as my 6-year practice has given me the courage and capacity to go deeper, face myself, and alleviate my chronic pain (emotional and physical). I honestly don’t know where I would be if I hadn’t started that practice. I’m so grateful to Kimberly Ann Johnson, Reis Paluso, and Luke Wientzen for starting Our Breath Collective and being excellent guides for me to find my way within.

There’s always a little track to follow to see how you ended up where you did. If not for living in the RV and running out of money, we may not have moved to the Casson farm. The Cassons introduced us to Rebecca Sathre. Rebecca suggested yoga as a healing tool. Nancy LaNasa had the perfect introductory rate for me to start. $40 for 40 days. I went every day and sometimes twice. Sorry Nancy! That led me to Stacey Vann and Vani Kimbrell, which led me to years of devotion to my practice. They taught me about devotion and discipline, and it’s where I found my voice again. This all led to meeting Christa Sonnier, who taught me prenatal yoga, which is where I read the book “The Fourth Trimester” by Kimberly Ann Johnson. And that is the story of how I found breathwork and nervous system work and why I am here right now.

All I can say is that every little thing I have done has brought me to finally facing the big boss, and that is me. I’m softening and allowing. I’m naming and staying. Releases come. I’m actively living and loving myself. More music is being produced and shared than ever before. I’m finally going to let you hear the songs I wrote at the beginning of this journey, and I’m doing it without the need for perfection because I can’t anymore.

This is all so I can sing and dance and be merry in front of a crowd. My greatest desire and deepest fear. I’m walking slowly but surely. I’d love some company.

If you have a desire to breathe and deepen your connection with yourself and your inner artist, I’m offering 20-minute breath sessions on Zoom on Mondays at 6:40 am, Wednesdays at 6 pm, and Fridays at noon, all CST. It is my favorite practice for myself and to share with others. I’d love to have you and to see what the breath can do for you. It’s a watch and see practice. No expectations needed. Sessions are $7 ($5 for collaborators), and you can simply Venmo me @amy-jinks and put the date of the session you are coming to, and I’ll send you the link.

TTFN,

Amy