On perfectionism
I’ve struggled over the years with playfulness. I believe we are all innately playful, yet somehow I’ve allowed that natural tendency to be suppressed, year after year, due to my greater struggle—perfectionism.
I used to think perfectionism was a badge of honour. Oh, how I was wrong! Rather, it’s been one of my greatest sources of weakness over the years.
I’ve gone to great lengths to combat this, particularly over these past nine months.
I’m close…closer than I’ve been.
I’m feeling good.
“I’m a recovering perfectionist and an aspiring “good-enoughist”.”
For those of us who suffer from perfectionism, our thoughts are typically and automatically negative, often an “all or nothing” mentality or a “just the bad” filter. We find it challenging to ask for help and, ironically, even more so accepting it. We also have great difficulty understanding when it’s not automatically offered (can’t people SEE that I’m drowning?!?).
From early on, my worth seemingly came from how much I could do and how well I could do it—and so I chased more and better. This led to overwhelm, frustration and, ultimately, burnout. Always. Regardless of context.
Yet…time again, I truly thought that this was because I wasn’t doing enough, that I wasn’t good enough. So I took more on, I strived for better (let’s be honest, for best).
This is a toxic paradox—we perfectionists attempt to control others’ perception of ourselves through being perfect. Yet, given that we can’t control perception, nor actually achieve perfection, we actually breed the exact judgement, blame and shame that we’re so desperately seeking to avoid.
“Never take yourself too seriously. Laugh, learn, keep it real.”
I invite my fellow perfectionists to lighten up, to lessen the load we bear of this impossible quest for “perfect”. Know that we are already perfectly imperfect (and imperfectly perfect). I give us—and anyone else who suffers at times from low self-worth, high self-doubt and any other anxiety or angst—permission to embrace our imperfections and to amplify our innate playfulness.
I see you, I’m here for you and I’d love to hear from you.
From an Etsy store that sadly no longer seems to be in business
If you like what we’re doing, please consider supporting our efforts to continue to bring thoughtful writing to you and inquisitive teachings through you. Perhaps buy us a cup of coffee. Take one of our signature classes if you haven’t yet. Sign up for one of our new offerings. Comment on our blog posts. Follow us on social media. Invite someone to join our small and growing community. Or, as I said, buy us a cup of coffee.
