This post is a bit of a rehash of one I wrote four years ago because I’m noticing perfectionism surfacing once again.
I think if I’m perfect then other people will love me. This is kind of a problem because I’m not perfect. Even more damaging is the fear that if I make a mistake or do something wrong, that love will be taken away from me. That means every time I make a mistake I’m scared I’ll be abandoned.
Yikes. That means there’s a whole lot of pressure to never make a mistake and always do the right thing. In this context, it makes sense why if I send the wrong email attachment or tell a fib, my freakout is not on par with the event itself because the whole thing becomes much more serious.
Prickly bits make a cactus what it is, perhaps it’s the prickly bits that make us human.
I’ve written before about mistakes being the zest of life, which I think is true. I honestly believe mistakes are part of the learning process, and nothing beats the expansive feeling that comes from learning. At the same time, I’ve felt a desire to be perfect right out of the gate. To know everything immediately. To be a star pupil. To be an award-winning writer. To know how to invest my money and become a millionaire. I want to know right now and I want to do it perfectly. Otherwise you won’t love me or continue to love me.
What’s interesting is I don’t feel the same way about other people. Other people are allowed to be flawed human beings who make mistakes and I love them just the same. But me? Pssst. I hold myself to a different standard.
That’s not cool and it also doesn’t make much sense because perfection does not guarantee love. I called a perfect show as a stage manager and no one seemed to notice or really care. Even when I do things “perfectly” it doesn’t seem to make a difference. And you know? It never will because perfection is not a requirement for love.
In fact, a friend told me once perfection is scary. When he meets seemingly perfect women, he’s intimidated because he can’t relate to them. It’s our flaws that make us likable because it’s just as C.S. Lewis said: “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.’”
People will never love me more because I’m an all-star or never do anything wrong. People love me for who I am, not because I never make mistakes. I am allowed to send the wrong email attachment because there is no inverse relationship between the mistakes I make and how much I’m loved. I can be, and am, loved no matter what. I already know that’s true for others and it’s time to make it true for me.
I dream of a world where we realize love is associated with who we’re being, not what we’re doing. A world where we experience unconditional love all the time. A world where we allow ourselves to make mistakes because we know love will still be there. A world where we let go of our outdated beliefs and ideas because they no longer serve us. A world where we know perfection is not a requirement for love.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
“View your life with kindsight. Stop beating yourself up about things from your past. Instead of slapping yourself on the forehead and asking, ‘What was I thinking?’ breathe and ask the kinder question, ‘What was I learning?’” – Karen Salmansohn
I love this concept of kindsight, of viewing my past mistakes with compassion, but I’ll be honest, it’s soooo hard. Far easier for me to beat myself up for eternity. For instance, I still think about a mistake I made in 7th grade and burn with shame and embarrassment. I think it’s because in a weird way I believe by beating myself up about it over and over again I’ll keep myself from repeating it. Like that saying, “If you don’t remember the past you’re doomed to repeat it.”
View your past mistakes through the eyes of love!
Well, I’m so desperate not to repeat the past that I remember it and remember it and remember it . . . I have the “remembering the past” thing down pat so perhaps it’s time to move onto, “What was I learning?” If I ask, “What was I learning?” that means I can cut out the self-flagellation bit and focus on the lesson. Although, I have to be honest, at the moment I’m self-reflecting and beating myself up. One step at a time I guess.
On Friday, a friend asked me to speak about self-compassion (go figure) and it occurred to me the most compassionate thing I do for myself is let the mistake go. Not justify, not say, “Mistakes are human,” not remind myself I didn’t know better or nobody’s perfect, or any of the million things we say to ourselves and each other when we make a mistake. Just let it go. Say to myself, “OK. That happened. Let’s move on.”
To me, kindsight is about integrating the lesson to a degree I don’t have to constantly remind myself what I did wrong because I’ve already taken corrective measures. And it’s about trusting myself that I won’t make the same mistake, or at least I won’t in the exact same way, and if I do, I can forgive myself.
Ah forgiveness. That’s another tough one. I find it about a bajillion times easier to forgive other people, even people who’ve been mean to me, than to forgive myself. When I look at my character traits I see that lack of compassion for others isn’t one of them, but I certainly lack compassion for myself. I have such a big heart; perhaps it’s time to turn all that love, affection, forgiveness, and compassion inward. It sure beats the alternative.
I dream of a world where we have more compassion for ourselves. A world where we practice gentleness about our past mistakes. A world where we integrate the lessons we’ve learned and let go of the harmful deeds. A world where we view our past with kindsight.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
I’m sure this will come as a big shock, but I’m hard on myself. I can’t seem to let go of previous mistakes. On Wednesday, I didn’t turn right fast enough. I kept waiting for the far left lane to be clear so I could merge into it and thus avoid having to change lanes quickly later on. The car behind me did not like this, honked at me, and exclaimed, “You’re not turning left!” I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
I feel uncomfortable because 1.) a stranger honked and yelled at me and 2.) he was probably right. I probably could have turned right much sooner than I did. I want strangers to like me. I’m bothered by brief interactions with others because I don’t get to hash things out with them, there’s no chance to explain or justify. The person is left with only one impression and that makes me uncomfortable.
I saw this image and I couldn’t resist! I’m an INFJ and it’s so true!
On my best days, I approach mistakes as opportunities, as learning experiences. I remind myself I can’t know everything in advance and the only one who expects me to do everything perfectly every time is me. Oh perfectionism, how I’d like to do without thee.
Another reason I’m uncomfortable with brief interactions with strangers is I want to be able to control outcomes and reactions. I want to be able to predict how somebody will respond and it’s impossible to do that with strangers, and even people I know, really. Trying to do things so that I get the reaction I desire out of someone else is called manipulation, or perhaps people pleasing. At the moment, people pleasing and perfectionism have morphed into martyrdom. I don’t want to displease others so I’m willing to suffer at my own expense.
There is nothing noble about this. Sacrifice is a tenet of my spiritual practices, but there’s a difference between sacrificing out of love for another, or love for a country, and sacrificing so people like me. When I start to allow myself to sacrifice so much that I suffer, I turn myself into a martyr, a role no one asked me to play. I allow other people’s needs and wishes to become more important than mine and that’s not acceptable. If I don’t take care of myself, neither will anyone else.
My needs are just as important as someone else’s. Not more important, not less important, equally important. When I turn into a people-pleasing martyr, I’m saying to myself and to the other person, “I don’t matter, my needs don’t matter.” You know what? They do. Especially if I’m paying for them. I have every right to send food back at a restaurant. I have every right to ask my neighbors to turn down their music at night. The answer may be “No,” but I still have a right to ask. And as I’ve seen time and time again, even when the answer is “No,” my higher power still takes care of me in interesting and creative ways I could never have imagined.
I dream of a world where we strike the right balance between sacrifice and selfishness. A world where we don’t needlessly suffer on someone else’s behalf. A world where we stand up for ourselves, remembering we have to be our own heroes. A world where we do our best to take care of ourselves and when that’s not possible, we remember higher power has it covered.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Maybe it’s the perfectionist in me, but whenever something goes wrong in any of my relationships I assume it’s my fault. It’s because I’m weird or said the wrong thing or did the wrong thing. I am always to blame. Except. . .I’m not.
I had an encounter with a friend last week that showed me other people are to blame too. I’m not always the bad guy. Yeah, I “knew” other people had flaws but somehow they didn’t register because the really flawed people I don’t associate with. I somehow assumed everyone around me was near perfect because they didn’t club baby seals. My rose-colored glasses finally fell off when I looked at my friend and really saw him. He can be impulsive and live completely in the now, which means he doesn’t always think things through. A little part of me worries about typing that because, “What will my friend think?” but honestly he probably won’t think much because — it’s ok for me to not be “perfect” and it’s ok for other people to not be perfect as well. We’re human. We all have our character flaws. All of us. Even the really nice lovely people. Even those we cherish the most. So when I’m fighting with someone, no, I’m not solely to blame. No, I’m not the only one who makes mistakes. I’m not the only screw up in the room.
Other people have free will, other people are allowed to make choices and mess up, and yeah, that will affect me. No one else has all the answers or “acts perfectly” or has it all figured out. No one else has a manual for how to go through life. I thought they did, I felt like an alien invader, but now I realize everyone else is just trying to figure it out too. Some people put on a better show than others, but really everyone is just doing their best putting one foot in front of the other.
I guess I’m saying I finally understand relationships involve other people. (Duh Rebekah!) Other people are allowed to air their dirty laundry, to play out their character defects, to blunder through life. I don’t have to hold myself to a different standard, either higher or lower. People are going to be who they are and oftentimes it has nothing to do with me. I didn’t do anything wrong, I didn’t elicit a certain response. People are just. . .people.
I’m not conveying it very well but I feel such relief because I finally know my part in things, and it’s not everything. I finally understand how much is my stuff and how much is other people’s stuff. What a relief to not constantly take ownership of other people’s flaws! What a relief to acknowledge where I went wrong and where other people went wrong! Not with judgment but with acceptance. What a relief to say, “Oh, I see, they’re being impulsive, or acting out their control issues, or miring in entitlement,” or whatever and realize it’s theirs. To be living completely attuned to myself. What a gift.
I dream of a world where we can recognize people as people. A world where we understand everyone is doing their best, everyone has their character kinks they’re working on. A world where we understand what belongs to us and what belongs to other people. A world where we live on our side of the street, knowing it’s more than enough to take care of.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Some of you already know this, but as a child I went through some pretty severe peer rejection. I had almost no friends and spent much of my time reading or taking walks by myself. I mostly played games with my sister, five years my junior. We used to choreograph dances in our living room and perform them for our parents. We crafted elaborate skits and created props out of cardboard. I loved it, but I didn’t choreograph dances or craft elaborate skits with kids my own age. I made friends easily but I couldn’t keep them because I was too “weird.” Not because I ate paste, but because I had different values from those around me. I was a vegetarian who didn’t eat onions, garlic or mushrooms. I believed in reincarnation and karma and love as the pervading force in this world. The people around me did not. They told me I was going to hell because I didn’t believe in Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior. They made fun of my lunch every day exclaiming, “Ewwww! What’s that?!?” My brother got the worst of it – his peers teased him so mercilessly they threw meat at him. I seemed normal enough in my appearance, but when kids peeled past my outer façade, they inevitably stopped calling, stopped inviting me to parties, just stopped.
In the midst of this, I picked up the idea if I was perfect people would love me. If I never made a mistake in soccer practice or on a test, then people would see how normal I was. If I acted just like everybody else, then I would be loved. I would never be able to think or believe in what those around me did (unless I moved), but at least on the outside I could fit in. Thus perfectionism was born. For me when I make a mistake, no matter how small, I have to quell a bit of panic because my subconscious/unconscious mind equates mistakes with isolation and abandonment. It’s silly, really. Just because I sent the wrong e-mail attachment to a contact today doesn’t mean all the love in my life will be taken away from me. It doesn’t mean anything, actually.
I’ve written before about mistakes being the zest of life, which I think is true. I honestly believe mistakes are part of the learning process, and nothing beats the expansive feeling that comes from learning. At the same time, I’ve felt a desire to be perfect right out of the gate. To know everything immediately. To be a star pupil. To be an award-winning martial artist. To know how to invest my money and become a millionaire. I want to know right now and I want to do it perfectly. Otherwise you won’t love me.
When I examine that belief and idea it starts to crumble because perfection does not guarantee love. I graduated number three in my class and my peers didn’t love me more. I called a perfect show as a stage manager and no one seemed to notice or really care. Even when I do things “perfectly” it doesn’t seem to make a difference. And you know? It never will.
People will never love me more because I’m an all-star. People will never love me more because I’m famous. People love me for who I am, not what I accomplish. I am allowed to make mistakes. I am allowed to send the wrong e-mail attachment because there is no inverse relationship between the mistakes I make and how much I’m loved. Thus perfectionism, I bid thee adieu.
I dream of a world where we realize love is associated with our insides, not our accomplishments. A world where we experience unconditional love all the time. A world where we allow ourselves to make mistakes because we know love will still be there. I dream of a world where we let go of our outdated beliefs and ideas because they no longer serve us. A world where we feel loved now and always.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Oh perfectionism. I know thee well. You are the character trait that says, “I don’t want to make any mistakes at all. Ever. I want to do things right the first time, all the time.” You are the character trait I displayed the most while in school because you were frequently rewarded. Every time I did something “perfectly” I got an A, which got me attention, love, respect, validation. I got pats on the head and encouragement every time I trotted you out. I’ve attributed the successes of my life to you, thinking you were the reason, you were my motivator. And even though I graduated years ago I’ve carried you with me ever since.
I didn’t intend to write this today. If you read AWIP regularly you know I blog on Thursdays and today is Monday but here I am writing anyway. I’m writing because some things are coming up and I think it might be fruitful to share them.
On Saturday I hosted an EFT workshop through the meetup group I started as a real-life extension of this blog. (P.S. Thanks to everyone who attended!) Anyway, one of the attendees became really upset because I neglected to tell the group the event took place at a yoga studio and thus people would be sitting on the floor. It ended up being fine because not only does the studio have bolsters, yoga mats, blankets, and pillows, but there is also a bench and a few office chairs. So the attendee didn’t have to sit on the floor, it all worked out, but I am still feeling upset about it two days later.
What I’m doing is I’m punishing myself. I’m whipping myself for not telling people about the space even though I had the thought to do so. I’m beating myself up because, “I should have known better! Why didn’t I tell them! I’m a horrible person!” but really the event is a stand in for all the other mistakes I’ve made in my life. The incident is a stand in for when I cut in line seven years ago to hear the Dalai Lama speak at the National Cathedral. It’s a stand in for when my sister and I wrote letters to a pair of brothers when I was 12 (me asking to be friends, her to profess her crush) and the mother came up to me saying how inappropriate it was. The incident is a stand in for that one time in 5th grade when I changed the answers to my test as we went over it in class so I could make an A. The list goes on.
For me, whenever I make a mistake I always feel so bad about it – I blow it way out of proportion and then I try to rationalize it away by saying, “Well I didn’t know any better.” Or, “I did the best I could at the time.” Or, “We all make mistakes, I’m only human.” What I learned from the workshop this weekend is it’s important to acknowledge the mistake or bad feeling or whatever, so I can move past it.
Why am I writing this blogpost? I guess because the other thing I learned from the EFT workshop is to say to myself, “Even though I did/did not __________, I deeply and completely love and approve of and accept myself.” Somewhere in my life I picked up the message mistakes equals bad and how can you love a bad person?!?
As I write this I want to weep because it’s true – I really have been thinking the only way I deserve love is if I’m perfect. The past few months have produced cracks in that thinking but it’s there nonetheless, otherwise I wouldn’t still be upset I forgot to tell people they would be sitting on the floor. I also know this whole incident is an opportunity to expose this, to shine the light of day on something I’ve wanted to avoid. Because I am still deserving of self-love, no matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter what I think. This isn’t license for me to run around harming people – I take a daily oath not to do so – but it is a license to allow myself to be human, to make mistakes and say, “I love you anyway.”
I dream of a world where we can all love ourselves unconditionally no matter what. Where we allow ourselves to make mistakes, to grow, to become masters. A world where we dust off all things that do not serve us so the diamond within may shine. A world where we can acknowledge our faults and not expect ourselves to be perfect. A world where we look in the mirror and say, “I love you no matter what.”
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m the type of person who wants to learn a lesson and get it over with. Or if possible do it right the first time. This week I realized two things. One, life is not about “perfect.” (And what is perfect anyway?) And two, just because I’m confronted with an issue I’ve dealt with in the past doesn’t mean I’m in the same place I was before.
I don’t like making mistakes. Hate it actually. This week at work I made a mistake and had to fess up to it. My stomach roiled throughout the whole process because, “I should have known better! Why didn’t I do it right the first time?!?” In my mind if I could have come out of the womb knowing how to do everything perfectly that would be just dandy. Then I examined that, went a little deeper, and realized life is not about perfect. If I knew how to do everything already there would be no point to being alive. Seriously. If I already knew how to play Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” what would be the point in taking piano lessons? I think it’s the same thing with being alive. Life is a series of lessons, all with the purpose of turning us into maestros.
According to my spiritual beliefs once I reach the point of perfection I will be one with God. Until then I signed up for life, for this experience, for this human body, which means I can’t be perfect. It means I will make mistakes. Because I’m learning. And learning requires mishaps and misunderstandings. The sooner I accept that the better. So I release my need for perfectionism, knowing I am making progress and that’s what life is all about.
I also know progress means I will be confronted with some of my issues time and again, but I’m still growing.
This week I heard a sermon from Rev. Michael Beckwith about how it’s a fallacy opportunity only knocks once. Instead opportunity will beat your door down until you answer it. I love that. I think life lessons are the same way. They knock again and again until we invite them in and let them live with us. Sometimes all we can handle is a short visit, but they’ll be back. And so because my lessons come a knockin’ I may think I’m not making progress. But that’s not true.
Another metaphor I love is the image of spiraling up a mountain. Oftentimes I feel like I already surpassed an issue, I already worked it out and then bam, I’m facing it again. A friend of mine said she feels the same way but what she realized is she isn’t in the same place she was before. It only feels that way, but instead she has spiraled up. She’s in the same spot as before but she’s higher up the mountain. And pretty soon she’ll reach the peak. So yes, I’m in the same place but not exactly. I’m spiraling up, up, up.
I guess I want to give myself a break and I want others to do the same. I want us to realize life isn’t about perfection or “doing it right the first time.” That’s not the contract we signed. Instead, life is about learning, screwing up, getting messy because we’re like babies learning to walk. It takes a few stumbles before we find our stride. And I also want us to know we are each spiraling up a mountain, working through our issues and life lessons but we are indeed progressing and growing. And pretty soon we’ll reach the peak.
I dream of a world where we give ourselves a break, where we treat ourselves with unconditional love. Where we know not only is it ok to make mistakes but it’s expected. Where we know life is about fumbling until we find our balance. Where we realize we are constantly evolving even when it feels otherwise. Where we realize we are magnificent and loved just as we are because we are divine children of God.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.