Perfectionism. We are all affected by it, either in ourselves or in a loved one. It is despicable in the way cancer is despicable- and almost as hard to get rid of. I could bore your eyes off writing a million pages on the offenses of perfectionism and defense against them, but I won’t. At least, not all at once. Instead I’d like to draw your attention to an item that I think is perfect to float out as an initial perfectionism metaphor:
BALLOONS
Balloons are round. Balloons are pretty. Balloons can be large, or small, or weirdly shaped. But the balloon I’m talking about is bad news. A balloon, for those of you who have never had fun, is a piece of fantastically elastic plastic into which air can be blown to expand it into a bright, often round, symbol of joy and exuberance. The plastic is in a constant state of tension, stretched to a thin layer. The air (or helium for all you chipmunks out there) is trapped inside when the plastic tail is tied off. It’s a beautiful thing, dancing at the end of its string for all to see or falling from the sky in a cascade of congratulatory excitement. But what if you just kept filling it instead of tying it off, or poked it with sharp objects, or heated it up (I know you wouldn’t do such things to our friendly balloon, but what if someone did?)?
Perfectionism is the balloon. Or, for a more perfect metaphor, the balloon is you on perfectionism. See, the point of perfectionism (yes, to be perfect, we know) is to render something both successful and flawless. This can be a relationship, a report, the cleanliness of a room, your GPA, whether you stubbed your toe trying to get ready in the morning, whether everyone you know likes you, whether other people are judging you for saying that one word wrong, whether the color of the rectangle in the graph matches the border of… you get the idea. Whatever it is, it has to be good. And “good” here means “if it has a speck of fail on it, it gets tossed.” My grandmother once threw out a perfectly good cake because it had a black speck on it- the speck was a tiny burnt cake crumb. That’s perfectionism.
How is that even remotely like the balloon? Well, in order for a balloon to perform its function (to be perfectly round, bright, and flawless) it has to enter a state of extreme tension. And while it does this very well, being that tense makes it quite vulnerable to, well, everything. The same goes for you perfectionists out there. In order for the perfectionist to achieve his ideals, he must constantly and relentlessly compare what he is doing to the ideal, and adjust if necessary. This is extremely stressful. Not only is he constantly having to adjust his thoughts and behaviors, he’s trying to match something that’s all in his head. It might be distorted. It might literally be IMPOSSIBLE to match. Set your air conditioner to 50 when it’s 120 outside and then listen to your air conditioner. Hear that? That’s the kind of stress a perfectionist might have to endure every single day.
That’s not a big deal, the perfectionist says. I’ve been doing it my whole life, I’m good at it! It kind of defines who I am at this point. If I relaxed my standards, people would know I changed, and not for the better. No, I can handle this tension. It doesn’t bother me—I must be really good at this!
Bully for you, theoretical perfectionist. You’re right (as usual, right?), but if you are right it’s only because you haven’t been overpressurized, or left out in the hot sun, or heaven forbid stuck with a pin. Because even if you’re a badass perfectionist who’s learned to manage her stress under all that tense behavior management, your tension is still there. You’re vulnerable. And sooner or later…
POP.
I can say this because I’ve lived it, and I’ve lived it because I am, in fact, a perfectionist. In the fall of 2008 I was awesome. I was an academic badass, had landed an overseas internship, was in a great relationship, had lots of friends. I identified with all of these things, all of these things were good, and therefore I was awesome. Then my balloon drifted into one of those dressing rooms, the one labeled 2009, where those awkward little pins stick out from that board thing, and… January 1, my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer…. May 23, she breathed her last. Pop.
For a while my perspective shifted. My balloon deflated, the initial wave of grief subsided somewhat, and I was able to develop more meaningful relationships with people, live life more fully. I had brilliant philosophical revelations, meditated regularly, and let my perfectionist tension go for a time while I dealt with the tension of grief and an overturned worldview. But as time went on, as I graduated, moved away, got a job, got married… my balloon filled back up again, stretched thinner than before, and this time with a patch on the hole of that pinprick. The tension of all those changes got to me. I became a wreck, terrified of the next pin, of not being able to inflate the balloon again. But I have finally come to the realization that is at once the perfectionist’s salvation and greatest fear: you don’t need the balloon.
For whatever reason, we perfectionists see the balloon as the most important thing. It’s beautiful and smooth and round, and as long as it stays that way we will be loved and admired and so can love ourselves. But if you’ve ever loved a perfectionist, you know a secret they don’t: far from loving it, you hate that damn balloon. Sure it’s pretty, and perfect in its narrow-minded way, but you see the futility of it and the energy it takes to keep it inflated. What you love is the air inside it, the substance of your loved one’s life- her aspirations and talents and quiet wisdom; his suppressed compassion and unique genius- and you yearn for them to LET IT GO. Untie the balloon and let themselves float free. As beautiful as the balloon is, is it more beautiful than a gentle breeze, a soft cloud at sunset, a deep breath, a kind whisper? That is what you see in them, and what is so hard for perfectionists to see in themselves: the balloon is not a showcase, but a prison. They can be as great and perfect as they dream they can be, and still lock away their natural gifts and talents in pursuit of the ideal. And stress themselves to the point of bursting while doing it. That is the tragedy of the perfectionist.
THE TAKE-AWAY
I could go on and on (and plan to at a later date!), but to wrap up an already long post I leave you, my brothers and sisters in perfectionism, with these two thoughts:
Think of someone you love who has a tendency toward perfectionism, and recognize how much you love them, and how little of your love is predicated on the things they are trying to make perfect.
Got that? Now,
Love yourself the same way.
That’s it. Because when you love yourself, you realize that the inherent worth of a person, what makes that person lovable at all, has literally nothing to do with all the things we work so hard to make perfect in our lives. And if it does? Well, that isn’t actually love at all (more on that later too!)
Deflating the balloon of perfectionism, letting go of that tension, learning to love ourselves in a way that allows us to express our nature without needing to put up a perfect reputation for fear of judgment- it is a difficult challenge for all of us, but for the perfectionist it can be the difference between a stressful life of success and a life free to live up to its fullest potential. It can be a lifelong journey, and I too am only just beginning it. The imperfections of a life well lived, expressing who you are, flaws alongside talents, mistakes beside successes- those “imperfections” are what will make your life perfect… for you.
WHAT’S IT TO YOU?
I started this blog with the intention of sharing my observations on life with the world, by turning silly everyday objects, emotions, and occurrences into deep philosophical reflections. The more readers I got and the more positive feedback I received, the more pressure I put on myself for perfection. I wrote post after post… until I couldn’t think of a post that was good enough one week. And then the next. And rather than put up an imperfect post, I retreated altogether. My balloon was a beautiful blog floating up into a WordPress sky, waiting to float into space, pop, and fall to Earth forgotten.
As part of my journey into the foreign land of imperfectionism, I’ve decided to throw that old balloon away and return to the blog. It may well be flawed (there might even be some grammer errors!), but it will be real. And if it brings one smile, or sparks a new thought, or, miracle of miracles, changes a life for the better? Then I will have proven my point about the balloon, and this post won’t have been a total waste of… oh wait. Not supposed to be hung up on results. It doesn’t have to be world-changing. Man, this stuff is hard.
And that’s why it’s worth it.
Is there something in your life that you’re good at or interested in doing, but you’ve been holding back from for fear of failure or judgment (by yourself or others)? This week, take a look at what “balloon” you’ve inflated that brought on that tension… and start taking steps to deflate it!
wittytruth 