IT'S REZOLUTION SZN BAYBEE. While this year may have consisted of cobwebs on your dance shoes and scrolling through IG instead of AA, 2020 is DIFFERENT. New decade, new you. You're done listening to the inner voice of fear and negativity, and you have an arsenal to finally defeat it: 

• You have a new planner with positive, inspirational quotes like "You have the same amount of hours in a day as Beyoncé!"
• You're hitting dance class at 5 AM daily because rest days are for people who are NOT ON BROADWAY.
  
• 3 open calls per day, every day? HOLD MY THROAT COAT. MAKE IT 5.

THIS is the year you turn into a ripped, screlting discipline machine. You're going to cook all your own vegan food, book so many dream roles you have to turn down OTHER dream roles, meditate for an hour each morning in your Stephen Sondheim shrine, AND somehow get 8 hours of sleep.

You've got a detailed, color-coded plan in your planner, and all it requires is that you work REALLY, REALLY HARD. Feeling...

Hi.

My name is Sara, and I'm a recovering perfectionist. It's been about 33 minutes since my last nit-pick.

Sound familiar? Welcome to Perfectionists Anonymous.

I used to wear my perfectionism like a badge of honor. Perfectionism meant I was prepared. I was diligent. I was SERIOUS about my craft. I thought it made me competitive.

In reality, perfectionism was killing my career.

Perfectionism is the voice that advises, "You should really wait until you have a solid double before you take class at BDC."

It protectively whispers, "Once you lose ten pounds, you'll be ready to pursue representation."

It sagely warns, "If you go out for that show, they might call you back to dance. You're not ready for that. It's probably safer to stay home."

Perfectionism is NOT your friend.

Perfectionism is a toxic boyfriend that says, "I love you, babe. But no one else will. Stay home with me."

Perfectionism may feel safe and familiar, but in an industry that values vulnerability and risk, it is...