How to make peace with perfectionism
Perfectionism is the thing holding you back from your dreams. Don't learn it the hard way like me.
“Perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around, thinking it will protect us, when in fact it’s the thing that’s really preventing us from being seen.” - Brené Brown
I read those words last night and felt like punching myself in the face. Bar the fact my fiancé would have been concerned and perhaps a tiny bit amused, I resisted the urge and settled for berating myself instead.
“Look!” that little inner critic said. “It’s been you standing in your own way all this time.”
I knew that, but up until that moment I had never quite understood why, or rather how, I was standing in my own way. I thought instead that I was just inherently lazy - something I have been told often over the years, which always brought forth feelings of shame and inadequacy. I’m not the most active or get-up-and-go, but I’m not really lazy, right? I work a full-time job, I go to night school, I volunteer for a charity. I (mostly) keep on top of my chores. Those aren’t signs of a truly lazy person.
But then I’d look at other people achieving what I had yet to. Someone younger than me with a publishing contract. Someone who has already left the corporate machine behind and is their own boss. Someone who juggles a job and motherhood and still finds time to be ‘successful’. I’m not even a mother (my cat might disagree), yet somehow it still made me feel like I wasn’t enough.
And so that accusation of laziness would rear its head again. Whilst I sat on the sofa, working up the courage to write just a little of my novel, I’d wonder why I was so lazy. The clothes piling up on the spare bed? Proof of my laziness.
I’d spend hours reading tips and op eds from people I considered the opposite of lazy. “Maybe if I try creating like they do, try living like they do, I’ll achieve my dreams.”
I soon came to realise I was likely struggling with perfectionism, but still there was a part of me insisting it was nothing more than laziness. I found myself relating to every post on perfectionism that @drjenoffical put out, yet unable to speak to myself with the same kindness.
Then along came Brené Brown. I was introduced to Brené’s work whilst studying for my Level 2 in Counselling Skills (hey, yes, aspiring therapist here - take that, laziness!) Her work on empathy was eye-opening, but it wasn’t until I watched her TED Talk on vulnerability that it felt like someone had finally turned a key in that dust-choked lock somewhere inside me.
In Brené’s book Daring Greatly, she speaks about vulnerability being, essentially, the key to everything.
“Vulnerability is not knowing victory or defeat, it’s understanding the necessity of both; it’s engaging. It’s being all in.”
And what is perfectionism if not the inability to truly engage, the inability to be ‘all in’? Perfectionism is about keeping you safe from criticism or shame. It’s about fearing the reactions of others to something we perceive to be vulnerable. For many of us, it leaves us unable to do the things we want to do, to start that project or task for fear of what others might say. Will we do it ‘right’? Will other people like it? Will we open ourselves up only to be told we’re weird or boring or inadequate?
Creatives are vulnerable, and vulnerability is at the core of all art forms. Art that is not vulnerable, that does not aim to speak on the human condition or life or society or emotions or our experiences in some way is not art, it is just data. And data can be wonderful, but data is not borne of feeling.
I used to write a lot. I sent my work into anthologies and magazines as a teen, and I even won a few competitions. That all stopped for two reasons:
My very first boyfriend and his mates laughed at me when I said I had submitted to a poetry competition.
Not long after, I went to university, and whilst attempting to carve out my own identity in life, I crumbled beneath crippling anxiety and depression.
That fear of judgement spiralled out of control from then on and I stopped writing, dipping my toe in the waters every now and then and usually hating what I wrote. That raw joy of creating came to me in flashes still, but doubt and self-loathing smothered it quicker than a breath.
Doubt and self-judgement are of course a part of creating, but at the end of the day the love for our work should win out. It’s when it stops winning out, when you become obsessed with getting it ‘right’ for fear of what others will think of not only your work but you, that it becomes unhealthy perfectionism.
So what to do about it? If, like me, you have read all there is about battling perfectionism and you still feel stuck, I have only one piece of advice: create, and be vulnerable.
Perfection does not exist. In fact, most of us don’t expect it of other creatives. Some of my favourite albums have a track or two I always skip. Some of my favourite novels have metaphors that didn’t quite land, or characterisation that fell a little short of expectations. But that doesn’t stop me playing the album on repeat, or rating the book five stars on Goodreads. We are first to forgive others, and last to forgive ourselves.
Brené Brown points out that we expect vulnerability of others. We want people to show us their true selves, to be who they are, because that’s what we like to see. The best things come from vulnerability after all, like love and friendships, comedy and art. But when it comes to ourselves, we fold all those bits of us that we don’t like close to our bodies. We gather up the tattered, trailing ends, the bits we don’t want seen, and we present a version of ourselves we think others will like. We do exactly what we don’t want others to do.
So, if you want to create or love or find some kind of joy in existing, you must be vulnerable. You must be willing to be yourself in the moments that matter. Put concealer on your spots, sure, but recognise them for what they are - an essential part of being human, and that’s one thing we all have in common.
What do you think? Is perfectionism something you struggle with, and if so, how do you manage it?
If you’ve enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing for free to be notified about future updates from me on all things writing, mental health and existentialism (my credentials: no philosphy degree, but I do spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about the meaning of our existence).