The Canberra Quilters’ Exhibition forms are due next week. Mine has been sitting on my desk for quite some time. It will continue to sit on my desk for long past the due date because I have psyched myself out of entering. I have three quilts which I want to enter. I want to win my section and I want to win the prize awarded to the best new exhibitor. But I won’t because I’ve psyched myself out of it. I won’t enter because I’ve convinced myself I won’t win. And if I don’t win, there’s no point in entering.
I’m not sure what it is about entering a quilt show in my hometown that freaks me out so much. Actually I do know. It’s like standing in front of all my friends and family completely naked. I’m quite sure I could enter the Upper New Hampshire Quilt Show, or the Broome Quilt Show but not this one. Not when any number of my colleagues, friends, and others, are going to be examining my perfect points with a fine-toothed comb, eager to find the smallest mistake, eager to say it’s not to their style, or not modern enough, or not this enough or that enough. Or simply not good enough, full stop. And I can’t be not good enough. I just can’t.
I’m a perfectionist, paralysed by perfectionism.