15: F*ck Perfect
Let's Be Silly for Once
I LOVE being my own worst enemy – one could say it’s my favourite sport. I used to be brilliant at lifting others up while holding myself down, relentlessly, picking apart conversations I had and judging myself over the things I said, or how I said them. And I never, ever talk about that, to anyone. Since it has gotten better, though, I’ve felt this urge to be more transparent about it – that in case you’re dealing with something similar, we can comfortably overshare together. So grab a cup of coffee, make yourself comfy and feel wholeheartedly invited to join this little group therapy session.
Perfectionism in the form of fully controlled behaviour and non-stop self-observation is so deeply anchored in my brain that I didn’t even realise it for the longest time. I thought it was normal, replaying encounters in my head over and over again while scanning my part for potential f*ck-ups (excuse my language). I call myself a recovering perfectionist, as I’ve been working on this for several years now. And even though it's much better today than it was back then, one moment lately showed me vividly how much there is left to learn, still.
We were standing in front of a boxing machine (you know, the kind where you hit a punching bag and the harder you hit, the higher your score). He wanted me to try it once, and he didn’t give up until I agreed to. But damn, that took a lot out of me. It might have been because in my mind, hitting something in public didn’t quite fit the version of my perfectly controlled self, plus I knew that the result wasn’t going to be good. These thoughts blocked me so badly, even though we were in a situation where the result was completely unimportant, and that felt incredibly frustrating.
“Just be silly for once.”
He said that to me while I was standing there, contemplating. It turned out to be exactly what I needed to hear.
It took me another moment to get over myself, but in the end, I did it. And well, of course the score was bad – but that didn’t bother me in the slightest. I showed up, I shoved that awful blockage out of the way, and that was the only thing that counted.
Just be silly for once.
Not quite easy to do when the standard you were trained to chase is the complete opposite. Flawless, well-behaved, eloquent, professional. Hard-working, reasonable, humble. Top-heavy.
If that’s what you know, learning to let loose is an, let’s say, interesting process. It’s the opposite of getting it together, and is that even something we ever discuss? We love focusing on the parts that seemingly need work, and while we’re at it, we tend to forget giving ourselves the grace of simply existing. Breathing in between. Releasing the parts that scream for authenticity, without critique, without second-guessing. Doing things just for the sake of doing them, without any other demand than to enjoy. And embracing ourselves as this unique, beautifully incomplete and deeply lovable unity of imperfections that we are. It feels a little bit like returning home to yourself, as if shaking off this excess weight of expectation made you realise again what living is really about.
I recently read that there’s such a thing as an emotional burnout if we overdo it with our personal development. It’s an important reminder that there can be too much of everything, even with the best things in life (and I consider self-discovery one of these). We can get too focused on self-optimisation, until we reach the point where we find ourselves spiralling.
We don’t need to fix everything all at once – actually, the idea of fixing something suggests that it’s broken. I prefer a different word: human.
Why the hell do we set this expectation of absolute harmony on ourselves and on others when we know deep down that the whole freaking living experience is meant to be partly chaotic? Isn’t that the whole point of growth – finding our personal definition of ideal somewhere between acceptance and authenticity?
Being overly controlled all the time would mean we’d leave important parts of ourselves behind in the process. It causes us to hold back on what we truly think and feel – and in the end, this seemingly best version of us might suddenly deprive us of moments worth living. A wild thought, isn’t it?
Let’s be silly for once.