Paralyzed by Perfectionism
What I didn’t realize during the long years I was a perfectionist is how much work I was doing just to feel safe, just to feel OK. It’s common for perfectionists to believe that they’re more capable in the driver’s seat than life is, and I had absolute belief in that delusion.
But I was frustrated in my attempt to get more and more done. The demands I put on myself were never reasonable, so I was always disappointed with my results.
It never occurred to me that it was my perfectionism that was the limiting factor in my ability to get things done. I was completely convinced that it was perfectionism that allowed me to do as much as I did, that in fact, it was my superpower.
Far from being my superpower, I can see in hindsight it was actually my kryptonite. It weakened me in the same way kryptonite weakens Superman.
But it also made me feel like I was doing everything I could to feel safe. It’s not the results that perfectionism gives that makes perfectionists cling to it; it’s the promise that if they change certain circumstances in their lives, they’ll feel safe. And it they don’t change those circumstances, they can’t possibly feel safe.
Perfectionism functions as a distraction ritual.
It distracts me from the fact that I don’t like the way I feel, and seems to promise that if I work to change or manipulate my experience, I can feel better.
I wonder why…
I wonder why perfectionists (myself included) assume that certain feelings are something to be avoided at all costs. An unpleasant feeling is not a danger sign; it’s simply a cue that my thinking has gone off the deep end. In other words, it means I’ve lost perspective. And that’s all it means.
It doesn’t mean I’m in danger, it doesn’t mean it’s anything to be resisted, it just means I’m having an unpleasant feeling. But the power of an unpleasant feeling is, when you’re in the grip of it, it can feel like it’s always going to be there. When you start to notice that no feeling is permanent, all of a sudden, there’s not as much to resist, and perfectionism stops looking like the ideal solution.
As perfectionism started to make less and less sense to me, I noticed the impulse to “make everything perfect” (most of which was already perfect) withered and faded.
Why didn’t I see it sooner?
Why didn’t I see it sooner? Having seen it now, it doesn’t really matter how long it took me to catch on (like most humans, I can be a very slow learner at times). All that matters is the freedom I feel. It’s a freedom that never seems to get old. And that’s exactly what I wish for everyone laboring under the merciless yoke of perfectionism.
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