Perfectly Flawed: Confessions of a Recovering Perfectionist
Perfectionism has been a constant companion, one that I've come to rely on yet equally grapple with.
As I sit down to pen my thoughts, a familiar sensation washes over me—a blend of introspection and a tinge of self-criticism. The latter was already casting a shadow over the unwritten lines, silently questioning the worth of my words. It's a rhythm I've grown accustomed to and that has become an intrinsic part of my being. Yet, this dance isn't one of elegance or smoothness; it's the intricate waltz of perfectionism. It’s a dance where every step is measured and every move calculated, a relentless partner whose shadow has loomed over me since my earliest memories. Perfectionism, in its demanding presence, has been a constant companion, one that I've come to rely on yet grapple with in equal measure.
Growing up, my world was painted in stark contrasts of right and wrong, success and failure. In that black-and-white landscape, I was a relentless pursuer of perfection. Every task and every endeavour had to be executed flawlessly. It held me back, stunting my willingness to embrace new learning and experiences. The fear that not being perfect meant not being enough, not deserving love, or worse, losing what little I had. This fear was a ghost from my childhood, whispering tales of scarcity and loss, tales that rooted deep into my psyche.
Today, I find myself continuously battling these ingrained patterns. No matter how high I soar, the echoes of my childhood fears resonate, telling me it's never enough. The irony isn't lost on me; in my quest for perfection, I've often overlooked the beauty of my achievements and the uniqueness of my journey.
Amidst this inner journey, I've also found myself lingering over past interactions with others, especially those that didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped. There have been times when my words or actions fell short of the standards I set for myself, leading to moments of discomfort or misunderstanding. In the quiet of the night, these memories often resurface, accompanied by a chorus of 'should haves' and 'could haves'. It's as though my mind plays and replays these scenes, each time with a critical eye, examining every detail, every word uttered, and every gesture made.
The relentless pursuit of perfection is further amplified by the ubiquitous presence of social media in our lives. Platforms where highlight reels are the norm and where curated perfection is not just celebrated but expected add an extra layer of pressure. On these digital stages, life is often portrayed in its most polished form, fostering an environment where the lines between reality and the digital facade blur. As I scroll through my feed, I'm bombarded with images of success, beauty, and seemingly flawless lives. What is designed to connect us gnaws at our insecurities and isolates us in our struggles. It paints a picture where everyone else seems to have it all figured out, while we grapple with our flaws behind closed screens with the added pressure to measure up to others.
This process of rumination, while painful, has also been enlightening. It's shown me how my quest for perfection not only affects my self-perception but also colours my interactions with others. I've realised that in trying to present a flawless version of myself, I sometimes put up walls, creating distances where bridges should be. There have been moments where this pursuit of perfection made me less authentic, less present in my relationships, and perhaps bounced off others who were doing the exact same.
I've started to realise (with the help of plant medicine) that being hard on myself isn't a manifestation of strength; it's a barrier to genuine self-love and compassion. Self-love isn't just about embracing your strengths; it's also about accepting your imperfections with kindness. It's about looking at your flaws and saying, "I see you, and I accept you." I'm learning to be more compassionate towards myself. I'm learning that it's okay not to have all the answers, it's okay to stumble, and it's okay to be human.
The most potent antidote to my fears isn't perfection, but presence—the ability to be fully present in the moment, embracing all aspects of myself. The quest for self-love and compassion is far from a straight line. It's a journey rich with varied rhythms—moments of triumph interspersed with setbacks. It's a path where the pursuit of perfection itself becomes a risk, a subtle trap. This journey is about embracing life’s beautifully imperfect ebbs and flows and learning to find harmony in the imperfections that make us uniquely ourselves.
Self-compassion isn't a one-time event; it's a daily practice. It involves being gentle with oneself when old patterns resurface and reminding ourselves that imperfection doesn’t diminish our worthiness for love or success. It's recognising that the journey, with all its missteps and detours, is as important as the destination.
I'm sharing my story to connect with anyone who has ever felt constrained by their own expectations. You're not alone in this journey and I hope my words are a catalyst for learning to be kinder to yourself, to embrace imperfections, and to find beauty in our flaws. After all, it's our imperfections that make us uniquely perfect.
I love this for too many reasons to list. Thank you 🙏🏽 it’s a beautiful piece 💓