(Self-indulgent rant ahead. Read at your own risk.)
Because why not.
I don’t know if I have ever made this clear enough, but I really, really hate Sunday evenings.
And it’s not too difficult to guess why.
It doesn’t matter if I’m out with friends or chilling (not exactly, more like overthinking shit) at home, every Sunday evening I magically descend into this abyss of pseudo-depression. Without. Fail. It gets a lot worse when I know I have a shitload of work to clear during the week.
Like in this upcoming week, which is why I have decided to unleash all my angst now and here.
Sometimes it does come to a point where I can’t bring myself to truly enjoy weekend activities because I dread the impending week so much…… This dread is usually augmented after particularly rewarding weekend activities, ugh.
I don’t even know why exactly I’m feeling this way. I have a supportive work environment, I am usually ahead of my work schedule, I haven’t made any fatal mistakes that would jeopardise my company’s/our clients’ reputation. In essence, in terms of work performance, I think I’m doing fine.
(Meticulous, they say, but the truth cannot be farther from that. I die a little inside when people say that because I am the least detail-oriented person I know.)
But there you go. That’s a whole lot of unladen expectations. Couple that with my impossibly high personal expectations, I think I am doomed to break apart someday, somehow.
The thought of surmounting a five-day work week – unscathed, no less – is daunting. Nowadays I feel as though I am treading on thin ice – one misstep and I will find myself falling into the deep waters. Every day I triple, quadruple-check my emails and media materials to ensure all my bases are sufficiently covered. Tedious, but mandatory. It is this fear of messing up the tiniest details that stresses me the most. Even one wrong date can be costly.
Then there is also this masochistic side of me that somehow indulges in wondering how much stress I can take before I start crumbling into pieces. No, scratch that, make that smithereens. I don’t think I am near my breaking point yet…
(Or maybe I am in denial.)
As a concluding thought, the idea of being a perfectionist never occurred to me until one of my colleagues (who is highly perceptive) said I was one.
Where does that lead to? I don’t know.
All I know is I really want to fall into a deep slumber and not wake up… Forever.
… Fuck.
(Edit: Think I’ve pissed off a reporter ha ha ha oh well some things are not within our control anyway ~平常心~)
Pickledpumpkins 
The upside of being a perfectionist is that the quality of work produced will always be of the highest standard possible (by you). The downside of being one though, is that (possibly) the stress and frustrations generated isn’t commensurate to the added quality to your work. That said tho, reading your post, through some of our conversations, sprinkled with a dash of my very own intuition (lol), the cause of your frustrations stems one part from your perfectionism and the other – your confidence. If you’re doing fine at work (which you are), it should somewhat settle your need for perfection. The reason why you are feeling fearful and worrisome should be that you’re afraid that this would not continue in the coming future, and that a major screw-up is under way. All I can say is, no matter how much worrying you are going to do, it’s not going to change a single thing – you’re just probably going to end up miserable and then the whole self-fulfilling prophecy thing is going to take place haha. I say cheer up and fuck it 😀
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