Perfection is a skill, Darlings

I’m a perfectionist. It’s become especially evident to me since I wrote about my fear of and reaction to mistakes post earlier this week.

You see, I define perfection as me never making mistakes. Or at least, never making mistakes that other people notice. And don’t admit publicly that you made a mistake. God, that would be embarrassing. 

I expect perfection from myself. Be it in my appearance, my work, my crafting, my blog.

Mistakes are not an option for me.

I judge myself harshly for failure.

And I am my own worst critic when I don’t achieve my high standards.  

When I wasn’t scoring 100% in my piano exams and my older sister was, I quit.

When I didn't understand Higher Level Maths straight away or without effort, I quit. Better to do Ordinary Level and get a perfect A than struggle to pass Higher Level.

When I couldn’t understand the moves or routines in my first Zumba class, I wanted to quit and never go back. But I’d already paid for 10 classes. I couldn’t walk away from my money that easily.

Even when it comes to my mental health the need for perfection is there.
When my depression interfered with my ability to study, concentrate, write and generally do any sort of work in college, I hated myself for it. Despite not having the energy or brain power to even read a sentence, I still expected myself to get A's. If I couldn't even do well in the subjects I loved, then what was the point of anything?

I punish myself for slip ups. I see my tears as a sign of failure. 

As harshly as I criticise myself, I don’t judge anyone else by these standards. I will forever tell people that it’s alright to cry. And it is, I truly believe that. Just not always when it comes to myself.

People tell me that I can talk to them about what’s getting me down. But in certain circumstance I just can’t. I want you to think the best of me. When it comes to talking about my mistakes I need time and distance between the event and me admitting I messed up. Time and distance away from my hurt. It's hard to admit your mistakes when you have low self worth to begin with. 

It can be healthy to always want to do your best. It shows commitment and dedication. It’s not a bad thing to aim to do better. But what about when it goes too far?

I had a horrible experience as a result of my insistence on perfection earlier this year. I’ve always liked to show my friends the ‘filtered’ version of my mental health. Yes, I’ll admit I was a bit down, but I’ll also mention that I’m working on it and it’s fine. My down spell will normally manifest itself in a blog post before my friends even noticed that I was feeling a little sad. I generally don't want to talk about it because I HATE the thought of people worrying about me. It means I’m not achieving this ‘perfection’ I strive for.

So back in January when I tried to open up to a friend about how low I was at the time they dismissed me. They didn’t listen to what I might have had to say. They shut me down immediately with something along the lines of ‘Sure you’re fine now aren't you? You'll be grand.’ Except this time it didn’t feel like I would be. And the one person I chose to open up to didn’t want to hear.

I kept telling people I was fine when I wasn’t, and when I actually needed help because I was so scared, people presumed I’d be fine. It was like a twisted version of the Boy Who Cried Wolf…

It’s hard to be honest when you struggle with mental illness. You don’t want to drag other people down with you. Sometimes you don't want to admit that you still struggle with it. But at times I’m not even honest with myself.

“We are so customed to disguise ourselves to others that, in the end, we become disguised to ourselves.”― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Being faultless? Who can truly live up to that standard?

Trust me, I know perfection is an achievable myth. I doubt it exists. It’s like wanting the filtered Instagram version of life. It’s what you see of the world, so it’s natural to expect the same in your own life.

I know that it isn’t real. But yet I still continue to insist that I not only strive towards it, but achieve it. That's not being honest with myself. 

I have to do something to counter this behaviour. Judging myself so harshly only works to decrease my self-worth; I’m not gaining anything from it, just chipping away little pieces of my own armour.


I found this quote that sums up the issue with being a perfectionist. 

“Perfectionism means that you try not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived.”―Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

While it might be aspiring to not leave a mess behind as you go through life, the mess is what shows us we've actually lived. It actually makes me feel much better about my earlier mistake...