How I Get Unstuck When Perfectionism Has Me Paralyzed

There’s a grassy hill behind a convent, with a winding path that leads to a stone bench. I can still feel the hard chill beneath me, the warm sun on my face. I was 16 years old, sitting there in complete, mandated silence.

I attended an all-girls Catholic school, and on that day, my class was immersed in a vow of silence under the strict guidance of nuns…