Getting to the other side of perfectionism

Trading the weight of our stories and limiting beliefs for belonging to ourselves.

I worked with a healer once to better understand a very tender and scared part of me that kept showing up. Every time the ground beneath me shifted, I lost my way for weeks. So overwhelmed with emotion and catastrophic stories, I didn't know where my center was. The repetition of this cycle kept me stuck and small for a really long period in my life.

She said I needed to heal my mother wound. These words still feel funny when I say them out loud, but it's something that happens when we don't get the nurturing we needed when we were young. This wounding is usually passed down from generation to generation because — as moms who naturally carry our own emotional trauma — we don't learn how to love ourselves. We don't choose the hard path of healing. 

The work with this healer would take years, but it was the start of learning to belong to, believe in, and rely on myself for nurturing and safety. Since then, year after year, layer after layer, I've just kept facing the stuff that shows me where I'm lacking that love and support. The places that show me where I'm not yet free.

One of the layers that's been ready to crumble for some time is perfectionism. 

"Perfectionism tells us that our mistakes and failures are personal defects, so we either avoid trying new things or we barely recover every time we inevitably fall short."  Brené Brown

Perfectionism has been an unwelcome companion I've traveled with my whole life. It has deceivingly kept me safe by convincing me that if I can be the most capable being in the room; if I can fix and peace make and hold the load up and keep it together for everyone around me, then no one has to feel discomfort or pain. If it's all up to me — because I can handle it — then I can control the mess. I can eliminate the disappointment. I can keep us safe. Then everything will be OK.

Then I will be OK.

Reading that out loud sounds like some bullshit logic to me, but it's taken so long for me to understand the pattern, how it shows up, and acknowledge that I'm finally ready to put it down.

"Because we can feel belonging only if we have the courage to share our most authentic selves with people, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance."  Brené Brown

Lately my perfectionism has been showing itself in a very specific part of my work.

I'm in a meeting. I'm disrupting well-worn behavioral patterns with the leaders in the room. These patterns are things that are easy to do — like blaming and avoiding accountability — because it's easier to point fingers than it is to admit we're scared and don't know how to solve a problem. These leaders haven't yet learned the tools to do this any differently, so they just tolerate the destructive impact and continue to work against each other.

When I slow us down to interrupt this well-worn path, and offer a more productive way of doing things that actually moves us forward, I introduce a lot of tension and discomfort. This is the job. I am fierce and loving. Clear and compassionate. I know how to take them by the hand and stop the damage. I'm good at this part.

The part where I stumble is afterwards. When I'm alone.

I know this is the way of this work, and I've been here thousands of times. But when I hear whispers of complaints and backchanneling after the meeting — a very normal part of this process — this very tender and scared part of me drowns in the self-punishment of rejection and shame. A repetitive, physically painful, self-destructive cycle of doubt, fear, and harmful thoughts settle in:

I’ve caused harm.

They don’t like me.

They think I don't know what I'm doing.

If they’re not OK, then I’m not OK.

This will fail because of me.

Because this tender and scared part of me cannot fall short, make mistakes, or have anyone thinking she is incapable in any way, shape, or form, I take the weight and responsibility of the discomfort that is not mine. I believe the story that my belonging and self-acceptance is in their hands.

This is a powerless and painful position I no longer want to put myself in.

“My life's greatest work is to move and be with this love that's within me.” Sarah Blondin

Until very recently, I've just lived with the extreme self-criticism, judgement, and unrealistic standards I've set for myself. I thought this was normal. I thought this was just how I was built and that it’s part of caring a lot about excellence. I thought this was OK because it was coming from my deep love and care for others.

But as I've examined my own flavor of perfectionism more closely, I can see it’s an abandonment pattern I keep allowing. I’m not OK with treating myself like this anymore, and I have the strength and deep self-love to finally practice putting it down.

"Feeling shamed, judged, and blamed — and the fear of these feelings — are realities of the human experience. Perfectionism 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....We think perfectionism will protect us, but it's the exact thing that prevents us from taking flight." Brené Brown

What I'm learning is how to love myself through shifting this cycle of perfectionism. When these destructive thoughts show up — because the ground beneath me is shifting and I feel stressed or scared — I now realize I have two choices:

I can reach for a reaction from that wounded one in me that didn't get the nurturing she needed, who only knows how to cope with stress and uncertainty by telling catastrophic stories and bringing on the punishment of criticism, judgement, and shame.

Or, I can notice that the wounded one is typically the first one to show up on the scene, but that I have a choice. I can instead reach for a response from the wisest part of me — the part of me that has been built from showing up for myself and learning to love myself — who knows how to move through that fear and doubt and uncertainty with love and understanding.

From the time these destructive, perfectionist thoughts start, I've been consciously changing which path I choose. From being stuck in controlling the perception of what other people might think of me, to what I think of me.

It's shifting my center of gravity to this very worthy and beautiful being who deeply deserves to be here and take up space and make a mess and will still be loved and accepted in the process.

So I'm slowly getting to the other side of perfectionism with experimentation. What I’ve been playing with is: What happens if I...

• Don't have to be perfect, get it perfect, or carry others?

• Ask someone else to hold the load with me?

• Don't believe my harmful stories anymore?

• Initiate repair if I've broken connection or caused harm?

• Say out loud what I'm afraid of when I'm in the room?

• Speak my needs from love rather than anger or hurt?

• Give the responsibility of the discomfort back to those it belongs to?

• Choose to be in my power by taking responsibility for my emotional healing?

• Trust and love myself as I learn and grow?

The hard labor of living
enmeshes itself in us,
makes us forget to see
with wide and knowing eyes,
that everything we came here for
is already within us.

Overcome
Morgan Hoog

I don't have to keep choosing this weight of perfectionism to be OK. I’d rather risk the work of repair and rest in the knowing that I can experiment my way through everything, and love myself in the mess of the unfolding. This way, my belonging isn't on the line because it's not tied to anything outside of me. It’s in my hands because I know I will always be loved by me. No matter what.

So right now, I am committed to practicing...

• Listening to myself.

• Trusting my sensing.

• Doing my best.

• Giving myself grace.

• Not carrying anyone.

• Making this easy.

• Believing in myself.

• Being in a practice of learning and care with others.

• Loving myself through the anxiety of my stories and fears.

• Feeling lighter and more free in this whole practice and process as I learn.

• Behaving from my wisest, most loving self.

What I know to be true is it doesn't really matter where our wounds come from. What matters is what we choose to do with them.

I am ready to be on the other side of this perfectionism.

I am ready for this softening.

I am ready because I already belong to myself.

You are only free
when you realize
you belong no place —
you belong every place —
no place at all.
The price is high.
The reward is great.

Maya Angelou