The thing about being your own worst critic is it’s a mindset that seems impossible to abandon. When you know you could be better or do better, it almost feels like your moral duty to pursue that standard. But consider this: What makes the ideal version in your head “better”? Who makes the rules, the bar by which you’re judging yourself? What would change if you get to decide what “success” looks like, and it doesn’t have to have anything to do with the end result? What if you can be committed to excellence AND be proud of what brought you here, to this moment, in all of its imperfect glory? You don’t have to play perfectionism’s game anymore, my friend. Who you are, right now, is worth celebrating, no matter how “successful” your attempt was. 

“Tough love” is steeped in tradition, but I’m calling BS on it. That’s because strict discipline usually involves some kind of shaming when you aren’t able to fall in line, and shame never leads to true, sustainable growth. Humans are, by nature, imperfect and ever-changing. Developing an ability to keep to a rigid regimen will eventually fail you -- because things change, all the time. Discipline leads to an unhealthy reliance on rigidity, but self-compassion leads to flexibility -- the true key to consistency and growth. The more you feel free to fail, wildly and with abandon, knowing that you will be ok and loved and safe, the more inspiration and progress will find you. 

 So, what happens when you do all the healthy things -- practice self-compassion, embrace imperfection, and fail wildly -- but you’re still disappointed with your lack of results? First, remember that creativity is about the process. Focusing on the end result will almost always lead to disappointment eventually. Second, remember that it’s ok to be disappointed when things don’t work out. Learning to tolerate disappointment and discomfort is actually your key to continuing on your journey. Let yourself be sad that you don’t love the thing that you made, and then turn your efforts to learning from it instead. Choosing creativity means knowing you won’t love everything you make -- and that’s ok, because it’s the process you crave, anyway.