Perfectionism,
my dear friend, you are always here to freely give me a view on what more needs to be done to finally reach whatever I am striving for. The other day I’ve cooked a dinner at home. Red Curry, own blend of spices with red chilli based heat, blended together with other goodies and really tasty greek extra virgin olive oil, pumpkin, spring onion, cashew nuts, coconut milk and I could go on and on. Yeah, I do love cooking curry, or at least my version of it. Thanks to you, the meal was good, it wasn’t good enough though, I could have added a bit more heat, could have roasted the pumpkin, add a bit more flavour and make it perfect, right? Hmmmm. Sure, I do get praises for it tasting good, but, does it? I don’t know.
I can recall many situations like this throughout my life. Endless hours spent on preparing for a presentation, creating a perfect technical demonstration, and also actually not even starting to do an activity as I felt afraid of not being able to do it in a way that would not disappoint other people. While flying to a conference, needless to say for which I have spent hours preparing, and sitting on a plane listening to an audio book, surprise washed over my face when I heard your name:
“Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to be your best. Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgement, and shame. It’s a shield. It’s 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 flight.”
― Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
Hmmmm, interesting.
My friend, I always thought of you as my inner voice. The voice leading me to do my work the best way I can and through that achieve the recognition of people around me, ultimately giving me the sense of worthiness. While I acknowledge your contribution in me becoming an expert in my field of work, I have to think about what Brené Brown said.
With reflection, I am very vulnerable person at my core and I struggled to be accepted in my past. We have probably met while I was in my middle school years. It seems that kids who are a bit on the heavier side, not very well versed in jokes and a bit more introverted, might often look for other ways to feel the sense of belonging. Unconsciously, over the years, I’ve created a version of myself trying to please others, avoid judgement and along the line also making sure I perfect the things that matter. They might not matter to me, but they bring me the recognition and sense of belonging. Shielded from a possible harm, I forgot how to really open to others, hell not even to my wife.
Friend, why have you not helped me out of this? I feel sad and betrayed. Should I lower you down my shield and let you rest a bit? Maybe, maybe, but I hear you, let’s not do any harsh decisions. If only you could make yourself a bit lighter, smaller, more like a buckler, that would be awesome. It might help us to redefine our relationship into the belief, that we avoid pain and suffering by simply being good enough, not perfect, but good enough. And who knows, one day we might agree on seeing how we feel about a bit more space between us, giving you time to rest and assess what you could do to better support me.
“No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough. It’s going to bed at night thinking, yes, I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn’t change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging.”
― Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
Your friend,
Ondrej
