I have a confession: I make mistakes. I know, that doesn’t seem like much of a confession because everybody makes mistakes, but with the amount of shame and fear that comes up from admitting it, you’d think I killed a man and buried his body in the backyard.
I notice the intensity of shame and fear shifts according to my perception of safety around making a mistake. If I make a mistake and the only person affected is me, for instance, the shame and fear levels are low. If I make a mistake at work, the shame and fear levels are high. The levels spike because my brain starts telling me the story, “I’m going to get fired! I’ll be destitute!” In my mind, the only way to stay safe at work or in my relationships is to be perfect. If I’m not perfect, something bad will happen. It’s not entirely logical but when are emotions ever logical?
When I typed in “perfection” this is what came up. Photo by Bill Williams on Unsplash.
This week when I made mistakes, I gave myself the basic mothering and fathering messages I learned in therapy: “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not ever going anywhere. I’ll protect you. I’ll meet all your needs. Nothing about you will keep me from meeting your needs.” It helped. It also helped reminding myself security doesn’t come from other people or an external source. Security comes from me and from higher power. Money for instance doesn’t come solely from a job. It can come from an inheritance or the government or whatever. If I lost my job tomorrow, I could borrow money or start a GoFundMe campaign or any number of things.
When I’m stuck in perfectionism, my perspective shrinks and I think in black and white. However, the world is in color and much more nuanced than I remember. When thinking about perfectionism, I was reminded an early definition of perfect is, “Brought to consummation or completeness.” That’s coming from the 1913 Webster’s Writers’ Dictionary. As a one on the Enneagram, I’m all about finding holy perfection, and the practice for me is to remember “perfect” doesn’t mean without mistakes, rather, it means completeness.
Completeness ultimately means unification with a power greater than myself, according to my spiritual tradition. I meditate and live my life in such a way that I’m moving closer and closer to a divine entity. I’m trying to unite and merge with something much subtler than I am. When I’m stuck in perfectionism, I lose sight of my journey and instead focus on a snapshot in time. I forget I’m learning and growing. I forget mistakes are an integral part of the process.
Will I still make mistakes? Yes. Will I still beat myself up about them? Probably. But more and more I’m using tools to come out of it, to love myself, and to be in the space of seeing holy perfection.
I dream of a world where we remember in our quest to be perfect, really we want safety, peace of mind, and completeness. A world where we realize we are all moving toward something whole and unified. A world where we remember it’s OK to mess up and even perfect in its own way.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Historically, one of the ways I’ve dealt with uncertainty and ambiguity is to become controlling. If I didn’t know what was going on, I’d make a plan or force a decision so that I did, because then at least I’d know, and knowing was more comfortable than not knowing.
It should come as no surprise I was a stage manager in high school, and for a couple of years in college. For those unaware, the stage manager is the person behind the scenes of a show who is calling all the lighting and sound cues, the person who makes sure the sets are moving when they should, the person who determines when the show starts, even. This is not done without input or help, but the ultimate responsibility is the stage manager’s. I loved stage managing. At last my character traits of controlling and perfectionism were put to good use. Instead of being disparaged for them, I was lauded.
Will this person hitch a ride or not?
Unfortunately, while all the world’s a stage, I’m not the stage manager. Nor did I get the script in advance. For someone prone to anxiety, and who likes to know what’s happening beforehand, this is not a good combination. To manage this, I could have become the type of person who does the same thing every day, who sticks to a schedule rigidly, who never tries anything new, who lives in a safe container of the known and the familiar, but I get bored and restless. Well shucks. What’s a gal to do then?
Lately, instead of defaulting to controlling, I’m allowing all of my feelings. I’m letting it be OK that I’m scared. I’m letting it be OK that I think things should be this way or that. I’m also letting it be OK that there’s a part of me itching to decide one way or another. These days I’m letting all my parts co-exist and that means accepting uncertainty. The truth is, for all my planning, nothing ever happened the way I thought it would anyway. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop planning altogether – I will never be a person who’s comfortable flying into a foreign city without knowing where she’s sleeping that night – but it also means I’m allowing for flexibility.
According to my spiritual teacher, and many teachers, adjustment and flexibility are essentials for human progress. My teacher says, “Intelligent people will not cling to old, outdated ideas. Rather they will wholeheartedly embrace that theory which adjusts with time, space, and person, and will continue to exist forever.”
He’s speaking about societal theories here, but I think the same principle applies on an individual level. I must discard old and outdated ways of being in the world. Handling uncertainty by clinging to a fixed plan no longer serves me. Dealing with ambiguity by forcing a decision before the answer is clear no longer works for me. The only person I have any agency over is me, and treating myself with gentleness, humor, love, and respect sounds like the best plan to deal with uncertainty that I could ever concoct.
I dream of a world where we accept uncertainty. A world where we realize nothing will ever go exactly the way we planned. A world where we embrace flexibility and adjustment while we move ahead on the path of our lives. A world where we allow all parts of ourselves to exist in peaceful harmony.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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.