Thoughts from a recovering perfectionist.

Do you remember learning to color? Coloring inside the lines was what I always strove to achieve. I thought it was better. I thought it was perfect. If I could color perfectly, then, by extension, I could be perfect. I, like many, confused an action with my identity.

What I ultimately realized is perfectionism is exhausting, impossible and, I believe, soul-crushing.

Now that I step back and look at this from a different perspective, I realize it’s somebody else’s picture. Somebody else’s version of perfect.

That stiff, constricting suit of perfection no longer fits me. Through a lot of exploration, I am now embracing imperfection and good enough. Imperfection has actually become one of my core values. It’s authentic to me and opens up a world of possibilities.

What does being imperfect or accepting good enough bring up for you?

What if I tweak it just a bit and say good enough – for now.

Did your shoulders relax some? Did that knot in your stomach begin to loosen?

Adding ‘for now’ gives me the opportunity to come back if I’m so inclined. It doesn’t mean I have to, but it’s open-ended, permission, per se, to move on.

It allows me to show up as I am and offer what I’m able right now.

My son mastered this at a young age and it served him all through school (admittedly at the expense of my and my husband’s mental health). But once I really leaned into my son’s way of thinking and embraced that he is who he is and that’s better than good enough – only then was I able to learn from him.

My son didn’t study for the first test in any class. His philosophy was that he had no idea whether he already knew the material or not. Studying could be a total waste of time and energy especially when there were friends to hang with or games to play.

He was fully prepared to accept that the first test was information gathering. He would not study and see how he did. Even his young mind was able to parcel out what’s the worst that could happen?

It wasn’t going to be the hardest test of the year – it was only the first one.

It wasn’t going to impact his grade significantly because certainly it wouldn’t be worth a lot of points.

He knew that tests were an indication of what he knew at the time. No more and no less. Maybe what he already knew was good enough. How would he ever know if he didn’t go in exactly as he was.

He also didn’t confuse his performance on a test with his identify.

Obviously, my son did not inherit his mother’s need for perfection.

I regret the pressure we put on him and his sister in an effort to ‘help them be their best’. Those were our standards of what was best. What did we know about being them?!?

Motherhood was the beginning of the end of trying to achieve perfection for me.

I’m confident I lost more to perfectionism than I gained. Wow! That’s sobering and before I wrote it, not sure I had considered it.

I don’t remember any one moment, but I do remember slowly loosening the tightly held reins of perfectionism.

Do you know what it really takes to be perfect? Anyone, anyone? Nope, that’s right because humans are not perfect. And those humans you hold in high regard who appear perfect – ask them if they feel perfect.

You do you, my friend – but know that nobody expects you to be perfect.

And, if you have that expectation (or you hear a voice that does), I invite you to explore it more deeply if it’s holding you back and keeping you from shining your brightest.

What I know now is that when I was constantly reaching for perfection, I was robbing myself of:

• Accomplishment

• Celebration

• Sleep

• Other opportunities

• Quality time with loved ones

• Free time

• Energy

• A sense of humor (speaking from experience, when I’m stressed, I have very little humor. A real joy to be around, no doubt.)

Back to coloring.

I no longer color within the lines. I used to love the lines and the structure they gave. Now I find them constraining. I have lots of plain white paper that I use for everything…notes with clients, ideas for blogs, meeting notes, doodles, scribbles, my brain dump…you name it.

I love the open space and the freedom it affords me. I don’t worry about my notes being pretty or organized. I use different color pens and write every which way on the front and back of the paper. Some pages have a lot of white space and others do not.

Chaotic? Perhaps but who cares? It actually brings me joy seeing all my ideas and thoughts.

Let me share something from my organizing days that for me, embraces imperfection and why it should be celebrated.

When I worked with parents, most found it difficult to throw away any of their kids’ art. So, when sorting through it, I encouraged my clients to keep, not the pictures colored within the lines or traced words, but individual art that really captured who the child was at the time.

You know what I’m talking about.  The drawings with heads out of proportion to bodies or writings with misspellings and letters written backwards. That’s where the memories live. That’s what makes me smile – not a picture colored perfectly within the lines.

I know it’s scary, but come with me on a joyous adventure of being imperfect and embrace being good enough. Because you know what ~ you are good enough.

Until we meet again ~ enjoy your journey!