In the spring of '93, I was a busy girl working on serious business: teaching a dance routine (that I had spent many hours choreographing) to my two best friends, Amy and Heather. Talent show auditions at our middle school were rapidly approaching, and I had a clear vision accompanied by a strategic plan. (The vision looked suspiciously similar to a recent Fly Girls' number on In Living Color, but that's probably more information than you need.)
There was one small problem with my plan: Amy was a natural dancer; Heather was not. So, I imposed a strict rehearsal schedule and demanded Heather practice extra-hard on her own time. Eventually, she dropped out of the routine. Or maybe I kicked her out. I can't quite recall. Looking back now, it is mind boggling that I wasn't able to just enjoy dancing and goofing off with my girlfriends. We were fourteen years old, for heaven's sake!
When the talent show auditions finally rolled around, and Amy and I showed up in the school auditorium with our matching outfits (yes, black knee pads were involved), we discovered that we were ineligible because we hadn’t turned in our audition application on time. I was devastated. And furious. I blamed the whole thing on poor Amy because my perfectionist attitude wouldn’t allow me to accept that I had done something wrong. We had both misunderstood that the form was due the Tuesday before the auditions, not the Tuesday of the auditions. But I never accepted any fault in this. Not even a drop. I yelled at Amy and belittled her in the way that only an adolescent girl can do.
This is not a joyful memory. And this is just one relatively small example of how perfectionism has hurt me and those I love in my lifetime.
The trap of perfectionism is that you are striving and struggling for something that can never be attained through strife and struggle. What I’ve come to believe in recent years is that we are already perfect, just as we are. We don’t have to reach for it. Reaching for it is like trying to grab fistfuls of oxygen and shoving them into your mouth. It's pointless. A waste of energy. Counterproductive. If you want to breathe, you only have to breathe.
Embracing the perfectly imperfect person that I am meant to be has allowed me to experience full-bodied joy beyond anything I ever imagined. And that same joy is waiting patiently for you. There is no need to work for it. No need to earn it. It’s yours. Just breathe.
Heather and Amy, thank you being such amazing friends who were willing to put up with so much crap from me. (Yes, they actually stayed friends with me after all that.) Please accept the heartfelt apologies of a recovering perfectionist.
(By the way, Christine Kane posted a wonderful article this week titled "You Might Need to Become an Imperfectionist If…" I loved everything she had to say. Check it out!)
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Oooh, ouch — this reminds me that sometimes I impose my own brand of perfectionism on my husband and kids — to everyone’s sorrow. Thanks for the reminder to lighten up!
.-= ami´s last blog ..What if – We made decisions as if fear didn’t exist =-.
It’s so toxic, isn’t it? But so easy to do without even realizing. Here’s to lightening up!
Thanks so much for sharing Joy. I myself have more than a couple not so joyous memories from my past.
Here’s to being perfectly imperfect and lightening up!
I’ll raise a glass to that!