The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.
—ANNA QUINDLEN¹
One of the best parts of my work is receiving letters and emails from readers. In early 2009, I received my one thousandth email from a reader of I Thought It Was Just Me. To celebrate, I decided to facilitate an eight-week read-along of the book. I called it the Shame.Less Joy.Full read-along.
Just before the read-along started, I received an email that said, “I love the idea of a read-along. I don’t think I have shame issues, but if you ever do something on perfectionism, I’ll be the first in line.” Her sign-off was followed by a short little sentence that read: “PS—shame and perfectionism aren’t related, are they?”
I emailed her back and explained the relationship between shame and perfectionism: Where perfectionism exists, shame is always lurking. In fact, shame is the birthplace of perfectionism.
I loved her response: “You might want to talk about that before WE start the read-along. My friends and I know that we struggle with perfectionism, but we don’t claim shame.”
We don’t claim shame. You can’t believe how many times I’ve heard that! I know shame is a daunting word. The problem is that when we don’t claim shame, it claims us. And one of the ways it sneaks into our lives is through perfectionism.
As a recovering perfectionist and an aspiring good-enoughist, I’ve found it extremely helpful to bust some of the myths about perfectionism so that we can develop a definition that accurately captures what it is and what it does to our lives.
Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to be your best. Perfectionism is not about healthy achievement and growth. Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgment, and shame. It’s a shield. Perfectionism is 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 taking flight. It’s stopping us from being seen.
Perfectionism is not self-improvement. Perfectionism is, at its core, about trying to earn approval and acceptance. Most perfectionists were raised being praised for achievement and performance (grades, manners, rule-following, people-pleasing, appearance, sports). Somewhere along the way, we adopt this dangerous and debilitating belief system: I am what I accomplish and how well I accomplish it. Please. Perform. Perfect. Healthy striving is self-focused—How can I improve? Perfectionism is other-focused—What will they think?
Understanding the difference between healthy striving and perfectionism is critical to laying down the shield and picking up your life. Research shows that perfectionism hampers success. In fact, it’s often the path to depression, anxiety, addiction, and life-paralysis.²
Life-paralysis refers to all of the opportunities we miss because we’re too afraid to put anything out in the world that could be imperfect. It’s also all of the dreams that we don’t follow because of our deep fear of failing, making mistakes, and disappointing others. It’s terrifying to risk when you’re a perfectionist; your self-worth is on the line.
I put these four insights together to craft a definition of perfectionism (because you know how much I love to get words wrapped around my struggles!). It’s long, but man, has it helped me!
Perfectionism is a self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect, live perfect, work perfect, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgment, and blame.
Perfectionism is self-destructive simply because there is no such thing as perfect. Perfection is an unattainable goal. Additionally, perfectionism is more about perception—we want to be perceived as perfect. Again, this is unattainable—there is no way to control perception, regardless of how much time and energy we spend trying.
Perfectionism is addictive because when we invariably do experience shame, judgment, and blame, we often believe it’s because we weren’t perfect enough. So rather than questioning the faulty logic of perfectionism, we become even more entrenched in our quest to live, look, and do everything just right.
Feeling shamed, judged, and blamed (and the fear of these feelings) are realities of the human experience. Perfectionism actually increases the odds that we’ll experience these painful emotions and often leads to self-blame: It’s my fault. I’m feeling this way because “I’m not good enough.”
To overcome perfectionism, we need to be able to acknowledge our vulnerabilities to the universal experiences of shame, judgment, and blame; develop shame resilience; and practice self-compassion. When we become more loving and compassionate with ourselves and we begin to practice shame resilience, we can embrace our imperfections. It is in the process of embracing our imperfections that we find our truest gifts: courage, compassion, and connection.
Based on my data, I don’t think that some people are perfectionists and others are not. I think perfectionism exists along a continuum. We all have some perfectionistic tendencies. For some, perfectionism may only emerge when they’re feeling particularly vulnerable. For others, perfectionism can be compulsive, chronic, and debilitating, similar to addiction.
I’ve started to work on my perfectionism, one messy piece at a time. In doing so, I finally understand (in my bones) the difference between perfectionism and healthy achieving. Exploring our fears and changing our self-talk are two critical steps in overcoming perfectionism.
Here’s my example:
Like many people, I struggle with body image, self-confidence, and the always-complicated relationship between food and emotions. Here’s the difference between perfectionism diets and healthy goals.
Perfectionism self-talk: “Ugh. Nothing fits. I’m fat and I look like shit. I’m ashamed of how I look. I need to be different than I am right now to be worthy of love and belonging.”
Healthy-striving self-talk: “I want this for me. I want to feel better and be healthier. The scale doesn’t dictate if I’m loved and accepted. If I believe that I’m worthy of love and respect now, I will invite courage, compassion, and connection into my life. I want to figure this out for me. I can do this.”
For me, the results of this shift were life changing. Perfectionism didn’t lead to results. It led to peanut butter.
I’ve also had to rely on the old “fake it ’til you make it” a few times. I think of it as practicing imperfection. For example, right after I started working on this definition, some friends dropped by our house. My then nine-year-old daughter, Ellen, shouted, “Mom! Don and Julie are at the door!” Our house was trashed, and I could tell by the sound of Ellen’s voice that she was thinking, Oh no! Mom’s going to freak.
I said, “Just a second,” as I hurried to get dressed. She ran back to my room and said, “Do you want me to help pick up?”
I said, “No, I’m just getting dressed. I’m so glad they’re here. What a nice surprise! Who cares about the house!” Then I put myself in a Serenity Prayer trance.
So, if we want to live and love with our whole hearts, how do we keep perfectionism from sabotaging our efforts? When I interviewed people who were engaging with the world from a place of authenticity and worthiness, I realized that they had a lot in common regarding perfectionism.
First, they spoke about their imperfections in a tender and honest way, and without shame and fear. Second, they were slow to judge themselves and others. They appeared to operate from a place of “We’re all doing the best we can.” Their courage, compassion, and connection seemed rooted in the way they treated themselves. I wasn’t quite sure how to capture these attributes, but I assumed that they were separate qualities. That is until I found Dr. Kristin Neff’s work on self-compassion. Let’s explore the concept of self-compassion and why it’s essential to practicing authenticity and embracing imperfection.
SELF-COMPASSION
A moment of self-compassion can change your entire day. A string of such moments can change the course of your life.
—CHRISTOPHER K. GERMER³
Dr. Kristin Neff is a researcher and professor at the University of Texas at Austin. She runs the Self-Compassion Research Lab, where she studies how we develop and practice self-compassion. According to Neff, self-compassion has three elements: self-kindness, common humanity, and mindfulness.⁴
Here are abbreviated definitions for each of these:
SELF-KINDNESS: Being warm and understanding toward ourselves when we suffer, fail, or feel inadequate, rather than ignoring our pain or flagellating ourselves with self-criticism.
COMMON HUMANITY: Common humanity recognizes that suffering and feelings of personal inadequacy are part of the shared human experience—something we all go through rather than something that happens to “me” alone.
MINDFULNESS: Taking a balanced approach to negative emotions so that feelings are neither suppressed nor exaggerated. We cannot ignore our pain and feel compassion for it at the same time. Mindfulness requires that we not “over-identify” with thoughts and feelings, so that we are caught up and swept away by negativity.
One of the many things that I love about Dr. Neff’s work is her definition of mindfulness. Many of us think that being mindful means not avoiding painful emotions. Her definition reminds us that mindfulness also means not over-identifying with or exaggerating our feelings. I think that’s key for those of us who struggle with perfectionism. I’ll give you the “perfect” example: I recently emailed an author to ask if I could quote her work in this book. I included the exact passage that I wanted to include so that she could make an informed choice. She generously said yes, but warned me against using the paragraph in the email because I had misspelled her name.
I went into total perfection paralysis. “Oh my God! I’m writing to ask her if I can quote her and I misspell her name. She probably thinks I’m a total hack. Why was I so sloppy?” It wasn’t a shame attack—I didn’t get sucked under that far—but I also didn’t respond with self-compassion. I came close to being “swept away by negative reactivity.” Luckily, a draft of this chapter was on the table next to me. I looked down at it and smiled. Be kind to yourself, Brené. This is not a big deal.
Using this email exchange as an example, you can see how my perfectionism and lack of self-compassion could easily lead to judgment. I think of myself as a sloppy hack because of one tiny mistake. By the same token, when I get an email from someone and there are mistakes, I have a tendency to make sweeping judgments. It gets really dangerous if Ellen comes to me and says, “I just sent my teacher an email, and I accidentally misspelled her name.” Do I say, “What? That’s unacceptable!” or do I say, “I’ve done the same thing—mistakes happen.”
Perfectionism never happens in a vacuum. It touches everyone around us. We pass it down to our children, we infect our workplace with impossible expectations, and it’s suffocating for our friends and families. Thankfully, compassion also spreads quickly. When we’re kind to ourselves, we create a reservoir of compassion that we can extend to others. Our children learn how to be self-compassionate by watching us, and the people around us feel free to be authentic and connected.
DIG DEEP
Get Deliberate: One tool that’s helped me get deliberate about my self-compassion is Dr. Neff’s Self-Compassion Scale.⁵
It’s a short test that measures the elements of self-compassion (self-kindness, common humanity, and mindfulness) and the things that get in the way (self-judgment, isolation, and over-identification). The scale helped me to realize that I do really well in terms of common humanity and mindfulness, but self-kindness needs my constant attention. The Self-Compassion Scale and other wonderful information are available on Dr. Neff’s Web site: self-compassion.org
Get Inspired: Most of us are trying to live an authentic life. Deep down, we want to take off our game face and be real and imperfect. There is a line from Leonard Cohen’s song “Anthem” that serves as a reminder to me when I get into that place where I’m trying to control everything and make it perfect.⁶
The line is, “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” So many of us run around spackling all of the cracks, trying to make everything look just right. This line helps me remember the beauty of the cracks (and the messy house and the imperfect manuscript and the too-tight jeans). It reminds me that our imperfections are not inadequacies; they are reminders that we’re all in this together. Imperfectly, but together.
Get Going: Sometimes it helps me to wake up in the morning and tell myself, “Today, I’m going to believe that showing up is enough.”
