I would quite easily identify myself as a perfectionist.
I’m not good with failure and I don’t like making mistakes. I aim to please, am a little obsessive, and like things to be ‘just so’…
Interestingly, if you asked me to define ‘just so’, I’d probably struggle, and if you asked me to describe “perfection”, it’d be equally hard….which is where this post begins.
Following an interesting twitter trail, I have been revisiting my issues with perfectionism, and stumbled across a few anomalies that have made me stop; think; and then begin to realise that it might actually be possible to shift my perpetual dissatisfaction.
After years of never quite being good enough, this would be most welcome.
Know where you’re heading….
Until today, I had never actually asked myself what perfection would look like, should I be fortunate enough to reach it. This fails the SMART test at the first step. Whilst I can highlight the flaws very easily; identify a positive in contrast to my negative; and am on familiar terms with disappointment, I can rarely describe what ‘perfect’ would be.
In some cases, this is easy to identify (correct spelling, for example, or a flawless painted wall); but, more often than not, perfection seems tied up with more abstract things, like how it feels when you get there, and whether or not you’ve spotted any kinks…
In most cases then, I defer my definition of perfection to other people’s opinions, and this is fundamental flaw number two:
Perfection is subjective
Take cake, as a simple example. Your perfect cake is probably not the same as mine. What’s more, if you’re judging perfection on appearance, an iced masterpiece might win; but, if it comes down to taste, the verdict could be very different.
Is perfection in the eyes of the beholder – or the creator; down to personal preference – or a set of criteria? If we’re talking about spelling, the answer’s obvious; but, when it comes down to the things I often struggle with (writing, being a nice person, saying the right thing, a good piece of work), the guidelines are less tangible.
Which version?
So, do I go for my idea of perfection (providing I remember to ask myself how I will know when I’ve got there), or do I defer to someone else’s ideal, and maybe hand over a little of the personal pride? Perhaps I should establish a scientific basis for each aspiration – or will that just create another opportunity for failure?
And then, supposing there was a formula and I achieved perfection on a regular basis; would that really be as satisfying as I hoped for…
Post perfection
You know that slightly empty feeling after you’ve finished working on something and it all comes off without a hitch; the kind of fizzle that seems to follow the relieved elation and the initial surge of pride.
Is this what it would feel like to live in perfection?
Or, would it be a constant looking over your shoulder to make sure you didn’t go on to disappoint or slid back down the slippery slope?
And where the hell do you go next?
Maybe, perfection’s created to keep us moving forwards, in which case we could well be chasing an illusion; because, “perfect” may disappear in a poof of smoke when you reach it – and realise that something’s a bit wrong…
The perfection illuson and positive imperfection
This would infer that, more often than not, perfection’s a bit of an illusion, and I’m sure the thesis has been explored by more philosophically trained minds than my own.
Plus, if we didn’t make mistakes, then we wouldn’t see where we could improve; and, more often than not, imperfections leads to learning and helps you to work out what to do next.
This is where the “no failure, only feedback” statement comes into its own, and where my random chain of perfection dissection has ended up; because, I’m not sure that I’d like a life of perfection (if it even exists), and I’d certainly miss the drive and the learning if I always got it right.
So, maybe it’s time to embrace my many imperfections; and show a little appreciation for the feedback (which is not failure); and go, unperfectly, into the next few weeks to see what I might find out when I happily get it wrong!
Tags: perception, Perfectionism, the human head


The best advice I had recently on this issue is not to put *my* 100% in, but that my 80% would far outweight most other people’s all, and not leave me in such a mess; that being my okay was mostly going to be great. It saved me from sacrificing my whole life to my studies last year, and gave me much-needed time with the person I love.
Love the post, and going unperfectly is not easy but I’m getting there.
For me a big part of that has been attempting to not hold other people to the same high standards that I hold myself. They may have their 100% angled in a different direction to me and thats ok and has nothing to do with me so I need to stop feeling let down when I don’t think they reach the bar.
They can do their own thing and I need to let go and stop assuming that they need my help to get to my 100%.
In the long term it might be more beneficial to try to commit 80% but then I wouldnt be me. I have high standards of myself and there is nothing wrong with that, but its about accepting those times when I dont reach that standard and trying to understand why (via internal or external feedback or reflection) and learn from that.
I know I wont ever be perfect but accepting it is slightly harder. My perception of perfect will change too, my vision of the perfect me is very different now to what it was 2 years ago and it will be in 2 years time. And thats what makes life so interesting, our lives change and consequently we do and must. And thats ok too.
But for now I will go unperfectly forward as a crab (http://crazymaking.wordpress.com/2010/01/28/the-crab-bucket/ Thanks @woundedgenius) and try to learn about myself in the process.
Very very wise words – and especially re other people. I have the habit of doing that a lot, which isn’t very fair. You’re also right about striving – I suppose it’s hitting that precarious balance between keeping the goal in mind without berating yourself while you’re trying to acheive it.
Providing, of course, that you know where you’re heading, which I’m still sussing out.
xx