Sometimes, Being Productive is like Hitting Your Head Against a Wall.

I am a perfectionist.

There is no doubt about that.

Though mysteriously, not about every aspect of my life.

I don't really mind if my room is a mess, and it doesn't bother me that sometimes the home for my clothes is the floor and not neatly folded in a drawer.

Although these things do get annoying after a while, I wish I could care more about them.

Realistically, the thing I am a perfectionist about is my capabilities. My writing, drawing, unfortunately, everything I enjoy.

This week I began to write for my own enjoyment. Whilst having time to kill I decided I would finally check out that writing site I always got adverts for on my Instagram feed: Vocal media; which, in turn, lead to Medium. I hit the ground running, writing my philosophical and psychological ideas about life and love and I wrote and I wrote and I wrote.

For three days straight.

While my boyfriend sat and worked all day, I sat in a world of my own, writing and thinking and editing. I was definitely in that blissful flow-state you find sometimes, time was no consequence to me; for I would have been oblivious had the wind have ripped the roof from over my head.

It was heavenly.

On the fourth day, everything changed.

I awoke to pains in my neck for where I had slept with it at a funny angle. My head was fuzzy as I was a little dehydrated, and although I got out of bed on the same side as usual, it seems it was the opposite day.

I could not write if my life depended on it.

The day was spent rolling around on our bed trying to think of things to write, I could think of topics, for that was not the problem, so what was the problem?

Your guess is as good as mine.

When usually I had too much to say, to think, to feel, I had nothing. My mind, creativity, soul was a blank, slightly soggy page.

I felt utterly useless.

I finally told myself the truth: Ellie, you don't have to write every single day. You have only just started. You aren't supposed to be an expert yet.

So I tried to think of something else to do.

I didn't want to draw for fear of doing it wrong and getting upset (for I was in the mood where that could be easy), and I didnt want to read.

I honestly felt like a spoilt child. It was humiliating, funny, but humiliating.

I just sat there laughing at myself, 'what is wrong with you?'.

The fifth day was the same.

The days were spent trying to figure out what went wrong. I knew writer's got the dreaded writer's block, but I had so many ideas, I just couldn't think of the right way to say them (see what I did there? It was bad, I know).

How on earth could I put my thoughts into words, in a way that other people want to read and find interesting? What interesting things do I have to say anyway, that someone else hasn't already said?

The next day was better.

Although still a bit battered by the asshole in my brain trying to tell me I was rubbish at writing and I have nothing special to say, I had a little spark of motivation remind me that I still wanted this and it would help me. So I got to writing.

As I wrote, I got faster, better, happier, my ideas started pinging in my head as they always do, and I was back, heck yeah!

I was still strangely fascinated by what had happened to me though.

It was so profound and scary, to just be almost mentally incapacitated, I knew it would happen again sometime.

I realised that I am too much of a perfectionist.

I try my hardest at something, and do pretty well; then I convince myself, despite a glaring lack of evidence, or even evidence on the contrary, that I sucked, there is no point to carry on, I am rubbish, I won't make it.

This doesn't just happen with writing. I have the uncanny ability to feel this way about anything I put my mind to. My martial arts, powerlifting, drawing, anything.

I know everyone has doubts. Though it is so easy to feel like I am alone in this. I feel like mine are so strong and incapacitating.

I battle through them, and I never give up. I never let them defeat me, I'm too stubborn for that. This makes me stronger and so, for that, I am grateful to them. Though when you are in the middle of a rut you can't seem to get out of, it is difficult to be grateful and think 'wow, I am so happy I'm having doubts, I'll be so strong tomorrow!'

It is just practice, a skill acquired over time, I suppose. And although extremely annoying, we will all be stronger because of them.

It is the not the ignoring of these doubts and worries, but the acknowledgement and then logical dismissal of them that will allow us to prevail. In simple terms, not allowing ourselves to get caught up in our heads and being rational about our thoughts. If they aren't useful, put them in the bin!

It's the difficult concept of 'you are not your thoughts.' What we think isn't always correct. If we remember that and live by it, we will get through plain sailing.

Hey, Doubts. Reckon you could be a little easier on me next time?