When you hear the word “perfectionism” - what image is conjured for you?
For me - it is tight, and specific. I picture a person who is “type A” - structured about their entire life. I picture someone that never lets a hair out of place. I picture a person who excels at everything they do. I picture a person whose home is neat and spotless. I picture someone, honestly, who looks a little dead in the eyes. I picture someone with a societally perfect body.
This image - surprise surprise - is most definitely not me. Which is why I have never identified as a perfectionist.
But lately, I’ve been catching myself, in my own perfectionist tendencies. How they’ve slipped under the radar under this image.
What is perfectionism also means that you don’t try unless it’s gonna be great?
What if it looks like paralysis over action?
What if perfectionism manifests in the form of extremes? I’m either perfect or shitty - no in between?
What if perfectionism translates to: anything less than 100 is failing? What if it removes yourself from the game, before even starting?
What if perfectionism looks like me? Messy-haired, “Type B”?
What if it’s hiding my deep desire to “get it right?”
One of the most liberating phrases I’ve heard lately, comes from Creativity Coach, Aimee McNee. She insists that creatives must consistently “make shitty art.” It’s not a way to barrel ourselves into get it done culture. It’s a way for us to combat perfectionist tendencies.
I see this as a real practice - not just with art, but with life - which as we know, tend to mimic one another.
Where I once feared the kitchen, I’m now more willing to mess meals up. And make it (gasp!) not mean anything about me. Where I once shied away from workout classes with strength training - I am now willing to be the worst one, just to start somewhere.
This is by no means a (perfect) before-and-after story, because rest assured - this impulse still shows up all around me.
It’s what prevents me from sending out “I-just-wrote-this” emails (like this one) more often. It’s what irritates me about this pot we recently painted - (But my vision! But the smudges!). It’s what keeps me in my shame, not my compassion.
I say this because honestly - it’s been a bit of mindf*ck for me to realize. To see the infinite forms perfectionism takes. I can display being as much of an imperfect hot mess as I want - but the truth is, underneath, I still want to be perfect.
I think the first step in unraveling this incessant, conditioned urge is to call it for the bluff that it is. To accept that it looks differently than I once thought it did. To realize that even that image (“it looks EXACTLY LIKE THIS”) - is one of its forms.
Perfectionism - I see you, hiding underneath that bed-head of a mane. I see you, claiming you can’t cook, when sometimes you can.
(the mane in question)
So I’m offering some reminders I’ve been giving to myself, in case any of you undercover perfectionists need them, too:
Just because it isn’t “perfect” doesn’t mean that it can’t be done.
Just because you might mess it up, doesn’t mean you can’t try.
Just because you’ve never tried before, doesn’t mean you cannot start.
Just because you “couldn’t do it” doesn’t mean you can’t now.
Let’s go forth, friends - make shitty art, botched meals, smudgy paintings on display.
Let’s start somewhere, because if we don’t - we’ll never move.
And to perfectionism I say - GOTCHA, B*TCH!
With my love (and amusement),
-Av
I am someone who has definitely felt like and identified as a perfectionist. It can be a real mind-fuck. Part of my practice with Substack was just writing, regardless of the outcome. It really challenged the perfectionist in me. Now, I did fall off the bandwagon the past month, and noticing how a part of me wants to go into a shame spiral. So many lessons. So many truths in what you wrote. Thanks for sharing.