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| It was okay. 🤷🏻♀️ |
I would worry when I was assigned something to read that I hadn't read it completely or correctly. I developed the compulsion to re-read and re-read because I was so concerned that I was lying about having read the assignment.
To say I had actually done the reading, I felt like I had to carefully read every word. At least once, my re-reading got so bad that I had to have my mom read out loud to me just so I could get through the assigned chapters.
As an adult, even as an English tutor, I'm rarely forced to read things anymore. I've actually gotten to enjoy reading some books for fun! The lying concern doesn't have to play a role in pleasure reading. However, I still can fall plague to this sense of toxic perfectionism in other ways.
Even though nobody is giving me assignments anymore, I am currently feeling a sense of commitment to finish a book I have started. I can think of a few books from the past that I quit, but this is a weird quirk issue that has become a problem recently.
Probably over a year ago now, I started reading The Night Stalker by Philip Carlo. I am a true crime fan, and I got through the beginning of the book pretty quickly. The story is very interesting and the book is well written... but I ultimately became super disinterested during the long trial section. I like reading about trials normally, but the way this one is presented, it just seems to drag on and on. I'm on Page 340 of 447 and the idea of 100 more pages just seems like torture.
So, instead of quitting the book like a normal person, I've just gone back to not reading for fun. I let the book sit in my nightstand. I brought it on a recent weekend getaway and carried its heavy weight in my bag. On a random night, I might read a few pages, kidding myself that I'm finally going to finish...but I'm not even connected to the story at this point. I don't remember who is who anymore. So, night after night, the book waits.
During my The Night Stalker imprisonment, I did read a novel assigned at the college where I tutor (because I had to), but I haven't been able to do any pleasure reading. There are other books that I actually want to read, but I haven't been able to because I am in the middle of this one. I'm committed. I have a duty.
This is nuts!
So, tonight, I'm going to start reading a different book. Life is too short to be held back by some vague sense of anxiety disguised as something more honorable like dedication. Not everything must be perfectly executed. Not everything deserves your time and energy. I will triumph over The Night Stalker.
I hope that as you move into the new year, you can also find ways to leave behind any useless sense of obligation you have to the insignificant trivialities that anchor you down. Here's to starting a new chapter. 💗
