How To Stop Being A Perfectionist
“Oh yes, I’m a perfectionist” – that’s always been my default position. At school, if my exercise book had an unruly dot or ink flick, I would carefully eek the page out from the staples and start again clean. There was a time in primary school where we thought I might need extra time in exams because I was so slow doing my work, but actually, I was attempting to complete each task to microscopic levels of perfection. As an adult, this morphed into an inability to take criticism and flat refusals to try anything new – as both would show the world that I was less than perfect.
We, perfectionists, like to wear the badge. The perfectionist’s badge of superiority and martyrdom. We sacrifice our peace of mind and often our free time to ensure things are done properly (read, better than others would do it). Perfectionism is a humblebrag; “oh I’m such a perfectionist, it’s so difficult being so conscientious all the time”. You’re bristling, I know, I would be too. I’m not pointing fingers at you here, I’m pointing them at me. Perfectionism was a badge for me – a badge of worthiness, of value, of identity.
Only recently, I’ve realised I’m actually pretty slapdash.
I can’t pinpoint an exact moment where I ceased to be a perfectionist; real life is never so convenient. When I started this business, the hallmarks were there – fastidious attention to consistency when it came to font size and line weights, checking and double-checking of copy and links, exceptional time spent in preparation of anything.
A few weeks ago, in one of my course groups, I was about to respond to someone’s comment by flashing my perfectionist badge and saying ‘me too’ – but when I reached for it, my badge wasn’t there. I realised that actually, I couldn’t quite relate to what she was saying because I didn’t think like that anymore. And, like a cinematic flashback montage, I whizzed through all the evidence. The times I’d thought “oh well” instead of “oh shit” to a typo or missed link in a blog post; how I’d put things on sale and “seen how they go” rather than rigidly planning every element; how someone I knew took private tuition and a week to get a single perfect photo while I thought “that’ll do”. Somewhere, over the last year or so, I stopped being a perfectionist.
WHAT DO I THINK HAPPENED?
There are a few factors I’ve narrowed it down to. One is that I crowded out the perfectionism with a volume of work. The more clients I took on, courses I ran, projects I created, the less space there was to be a perfectionist about them. I’m not advocating busy-ness as a solution but if you are spending a week on one photo try taking 25 instead and see how much room there is for perfectionism.
Another is that I realised the value was in the content, not the format. All that mattered to people was that they could access the material and the ideas, not how perfectly they were packaged. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like I was slopping things out, but a final proofread just wasn’t as important as getting the thing out.
I think it was also a natural part, for me, of self-employment. I’m an Obliger, and a lot of my perfectionism was based on the fear of being told off. Of a teacher or boss disapproving or criticising my work. When I first started my business, I lived with an invisible boss for a while – the feeling that someone was looking over my shoulder, that there was an authority greater than me judging my work and decisions. When that began to wear off, so did my perfectionism. No one was checking up on me, and this let off some of the pressure.
But most of all, my priorities and values shifted – in life and business. When I think of life with perfectionism it is boxed in, scared, trapped; constrained by taut ropes. It is not daring to do new things or create with any truth because you’re so fearful of ‘doing it wrong’. In my life and work, I value freedom, I value honesty, I value creative variety – these things are perfection’s opposite.
It is easier to try to start being something rather than stop being something; to work towards the light rather than escape the dark. If I’d said, “I must stop being a perfectionist” I don’t think I would have been able to – in fact, I’m sure I would have been a perfectionist about stopping being a perfectionist. But when I said to myself “I want to feel free every day, I want to live in truthfulness, I want to pursue variety in what I do”, that was easier to pursue. In all my messy false starts and wrong turnings and steps forward in trying to live and work in alignment with and prioritise these values, perfectionism got lost. As its opposites got stronger, it faded away into nothingness.
Almost nothingness, I should say. I still hold a lot of perfectionism around Instagram. I will edit unsightly clutter or a stray foot out of a photo. I hold weight to how ‘well’ a post does, and therefore how many ‘worthy human’ points I get and how healthy my business is. I have tried different things over the last year to try and make this a healthier relationship – “just not caring” (like that ever works), “trying really hard” (not sustainable), “not posting as much” (read: hiding). I think Instagram sticks as the last port for my perfectionism because I never experienced it any other way. Yes, there’s the fact that the stats are right there in your face telling you how well you’re doing, yes there’s the fact that it is undeniably important to me making a living. But I started using Instagram for my blog and business. I never experienced the halcyon days of the fun chronological feed and using it to connect with friends and share my photos. It was always serious. To be done properly. Perfectly.
But now I have a theory. I must apply my values to Instagram, just as I have elsewhere. I will see how I can experience more freedom around it, how I can be there more truthfully, how I can pursue more creative variety within it.
Already I feel the puppet strings slacken, and the light starts to break in.
