“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor” - Anne Lamott
I had planned to write this post a month ago. The topic was interesting, and it was one that I was sure most people could relate to. I mean, who hasn’t wrestled at some point with the issue of perfectionism?
One after another, notions and examples of perfectionism flowed steadily from my mind onto my notepad. And when I ran those ideas by a few friends, each of them shared their own stories about how the need to be perfect at something had negatively affected their lives.
Simply put, there was no shortage of material, and this post, I just knew, would be a breeze to write. A slam-dunk. A no brainer.
Until I sat down at the keyboard. When I tried to weave my thoughts into a coherent post, the flow slowed to a trickle. Then, it just stopped. I was frozen, scattered, and unsure of how or where to begin.
“You’re such a perfectionist!”
I had fallen victim, yet again, to my own brand of perfectionism—the kind where I scrutinize every thought/phrase/sentence/punctuation mark circling through my head. The kind where everything has to be perfect, even before it’s typed onto the screen.
If I was going to write this post, it had to be witty, intelligent, and insightful. But in my attempts to get there, I became frustrated, anxious, and creatively blocked. In my effort to be perfect, I nearly missed my deadline.
Deep down, I’ve always felt proud to be known as a perfectionist. Working diligently to deliver excellence, being highly organized and detail oriented has served me well. All the while, however, I’ve often felt plagued, rendered semi-paralyzed, rooted in fear—petrified to take that leap for fear of making a mistake, for fear of failure.
Am I perhaps, more rigid, obsessive, and controlling than I’ve realized?
Bottom line: The dividing line between admirably high standards and the painful distress of perfectionism is exceedingly thin. Alas, I’ve officially arrived at paradox junction.
It’s time to determine when perfectionism pays off and when it becomes the villain, the saboteur.
So wait: Perfectionism isn’t a good thing?
