“What do you consider your greatest weakness?”
“I’m a perfectionist.”
Perfectionist
noun
a person who refuses to accept any standard short of perfection
I used to think being a perfectionist was a good thing. To be the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect teammate. I want to excel at everything, to be kind to everyone, to look beautiful at every angle. Striving to be the best, to be flawless - how can that be such a bad thing?
It’s a bad thing because perfection isn’t real.
It’s taken me years to realize that perfection is the root of so much pain and suffering in my life. Growing up, I was so far from being perfect that I perpetually felt immense pressure and disappointment. Self-deprecation and I were best friends, and she was always in my ear whispering that I wasn’t good enough and that I could have done better.
When I let a petty thing ruin my day or when I obsess over things outside of my control, I know that’s perfection knocking at my door. A couple weeks ago while riding my bike to the grocery store, I was heckled by a driver. Apparently, my waiting behind him at a stoplight bothered him. I sobbed to myself while walking through the ketchup aisle - sad that someone was mean to me and disappointed in myself that I let a complete stranger ruin an otherwise perfect day.
I feel perfectionism breathing down my neck when I receive constructive feedback - actually, when I receive any type of feedback, be it positive or constructive. When it’s constructive, I feel heartbroken and unworthy. When it’s positive, I feel like an imposter. If I get five pieces of feedback and one of them is constructive, I’ll only focus on the constructive and not the four positives. There goes perfection, trying to rob me of a joyous moment.
It also doesn’t help that being a perfectionist and a highly sensitive person (HSP) can work against each other. As an HSP, I’m hyper-aware of my environment, super sensitive to criticism, and try to avoid getting upset at all costs. For years, I thought being an HSP was a downfall, a disorder. My perfectionism was an attempt to compensate for my HSP shortcomings and a way to protect myself from future criticism and pain.
Somehow the older I get, the more perfect I want to be. I want to be the perfect spouse to my husband, the perfect mother to my children, and the perfect daughter to my parents. The sandwich generation pushes perfection from all sides. When more people need me, the more pressure I feel to be everything to everyone. My mind is either analyzing the past (“how could I have done that perfectly”) or planning for the future (“how will I make it perfect”). I’m rarely focusing on the present.
I have to make a conscious effort to ignore perfection when it doesn’t serve me, which is most of the time. I have to deliberately acknowledge it and choose not to pay attention to it. This might sound easy, but it is the hardest thing I’ll do each day. It doesn’t mean perfectionism will someday go away for me. It might be a part of me for the rest of my life, but I strive for a better relationship with it.
I’m learning that when I seek perfection, I only perfect disappointment. The mantra in my head right now: let go of perfection and seek to be present instead.
“In truth, the notions of perfect or imperfect are simply constructs of the mind and have no actual basis other than thought has created them.”
