Why Be Perfect When You Can Be Good Enough?

I recently read a fascinating book on creativity:  Imagination in Action, by Shaun McNiff (Shambhala Publications, 2015).  While the book has much to offer in the way of developing one’s creativity and therapeutic value of making art, McNiff noted that perfectionism is often one of the blocks to fulfilling creative potential.  He then went on to offer an insight that resonated with me:  pessimism is "a close cousin" to perfectionism (p.191).  Although it’s not a new idea, the relationship between perfectionism and pessimism is a fascinating and important one. 

Perfectionism manifests in many ways:  reaching for the perfect body, the perfect relationship, having the perfect career, completing job tasks perfectly, acing the test, creating the "perfect life".  The fantasy of perfection includes notions about a carefree life of ease which will last forever.  Of course, such ease is fleeting, and when life intervenes and things change, you're back to pursuing a new goal that will be more perfect than the last.  Reaching for perfection usually creates stress, especially when success is equated with perfection and you cannot be satisfied with any other outcome.  It can be exhausting--just ask any perfectionist.  

However, perfectionism doesn’t have to be bad.  Some psychologists differentiate between adaptive perfectionists—those people who can accept small flaws or mistakes while continuing to see their overall efforts as successful—and maladaptive perfectionists—those people who are overly critical when they make mistakes, are excessively concerned with the expectations and achievements of others, and are critical of the overall quality of their efforts.  As you might expect, the line between adaptive and maladaptive perfectionism is usually blurry.

Significantly, perfectionism is a often strategy of avoidance:  the perfectionist constantly strives for what ‘could be’ while often dismissing what is.  Ironically, perfectionists demands total commitment, total engagement in order to achieve a very specific, but usually elusive, ill-defined and sometimes irrational goal.  Moreover, the standards of “perfection” are ever-evolving, which, on another level, underscores the truth that perfection is socially constructed and doesn’t exist outside the human mind.  

Perfectionism is ultimately driven by fear:  fear of making a mistake; fear of failure; fear of being humiliated.

Many clients I see talk about their struggles with perfectionism, the belief that “I must be perfect in order to feel good about myself, to be accepted, to belong, to be loved.”  And often at the core of perfectionism is the painful belief that “I am inadequate; I am flawed.”  Striving to be perfect, then, protects you from that negative belief:  “if I’m perfect, no one will see how flawed I really am.”  The trouble is this: failure to achieve that elusive standard of perfection—and being seen as flawed—is catastrophic in the mind of the perfectionist, leading to self-denigrating thoughts,  withdrawal and hopelessness—a sure recipe for depression.

So, the very heart of perfectionism is pessimistic:  “Reality is not good enough, I’m not good enough.”  And because perfection is impossible and accepted notions of perfection change, pursuing perfection cab eventually lead to becomes to another pessimistic thought: “why bother? I’ll just fail again.”  

Having aspirations to grow and achieve is healthy.  Striving to achieve perfection—holding yourself to impossibly high expectations while being highly self-critical and unforgiving—is not. 

As a recovering perfectionist myself, I’ve learned to embrace being ‘good enough’:  you do your best, acknowledge when your efforts miss the mark, and try to improve the next time.  It’s also helpful to let go of trying to control for a very specific outcome.  Similarly, it’s helpful to distinguish between having aspirations and striving for perfection.  In short, be gentle with yourself. 

When you’re good enough, you give your best effort and are mindful of several thoughts:

·       Perfect according to who?  Whose voice speaks when you tell yourself you MUST be perfect?  Chances are you’ve learned about being perfect from someone.  No one is born with ideas about being perfect. 

·       Perfect does not exist.  Perfection is an idea, not a reality. 

·       Everyone makes mistakes.  It is part of being human.  When you accept your mistakes, you accept your humanity.  Learn to forgive your mistakes and move on.

·       When you make a mistake, look at it as an opportunity to learn and improve. In 12-step meetings, you often hear the slogan “progress, not perfection.”  Wise people remember and practice this.

·       What would you say to a friend who berates herself about her failures?  Practice using the same language on yourself.

·       Keep the bigger picture in mind.  Perfection tends to narrow your focus.  Broadening your perspective can help you discern the line between having aspirations and being perfect.

·       When you meet a high standard of achievement, celebrate it. And then move on.

Be patient with yourself.  It took time to develop the maladaptive perfectionist mindset, and it will take time to learn a more adaptive one.  Therapy can help.

Step Back

On September 13, 2001, I boarded one of the few subway trains running in NYC and tried to get to work from my apartment in Brooklyn.  The mostly empty train left Brooklyn and was on its way to the Wall Street station when the train suddenly lost power and lurched to a stop in the tunnel.  The lights went out, and emergency lights flickered on, eerily illuminating four other passengers spread throughout the car.  From my seat in the second car of the train, I could hear explosive popping sounds several cars away.   Memories of the towers collapsing flashed in my mind’s eye, and I quickly began to feel very anxious and uneasy.  I could feel my heart racing faster and my blood pressure rising.  I looked across the car to the other passengers and sensed that we were all having similar thoughts:  another terrorist attack; we’re going to be blown up or drowned under the river.  My thoughts careened ahead, and I began thinking of how I might escape, wondering exactly how far we were from Wall Street. The more I entertained these catastrophic thoughts, the harder my heart pounded, and the more anxious and panicked I became.

But then, I caught myself, and saw how crazy my thinking was.  I became aware that my anxious thinking was making the situation much worse.  With effort, I was able to step away from the story, back into the present moment. 

I had created a story about what was happening and what might happen. By doing so, I no longer accurately perceived what was actually occurring.  I did not know what was taking place several cars away. I was speculating, imaginatively filling in the blanks to make sense of what I was hearing.  And the story I wrote in my head created suffering.  The reality was this: the train stopped in the tunnel, the lights were out, there were sounds—the origin and cause of which were unknown to me—and I was alive. Nothing bad was happening in the car where I sat.  For the moment, I was OK.

I consciously decided to stay focused on what I knew at that moment, and what I knew was that I was OK.  Being OK was enough.  The awareness of being OK was followed by a second thought:  there was actually nothing more to do. There was no action to take, given the knowns and unknowns of the situation.  If some new development arose that demanded a response, I would take action then.  But for the moment, I simply held to one thought:   ”Right now, I’m OK.”  Doing anything else would be foolhardy and unnecessary—and potentially disastrous.  Waiting with alert awareness was the best choice. 

Although it seemed an eternity, the train’s conductor soon announced that the train had lost power, and that the sounds I heard were caused by the train trying to generate power.  He stated that he would try to power up the train and get us to Manhattan.  After a few more moments, the train began to move and we soon safely arrived at Wall Street. 

I’ve thought about that morning a great deal over the years.  I’ve shared my experience with many people to illustrate how our minds can generate potent but unnecessary stories that distance us from the truth of the present moment and create anxious suffering.  We create stories during moments of uncertainty that, in turn, can generate powerfully aversive feelings.  Aversion then generates an incredibly strong impulse to flee the situation. Indeed, we may react prematurely, creating more discomfort and distress. 

Although stories tend to arise in stressful situations, self-generated stories ultimately have deeper roots.  They arise from unexamined, dysfunctional beliefs about ourselves—beliefs about one’s sense of agency and power, beliefs about our ability to tolerate uncertainty and strong feeling states.  Too often, dysfunctional beliefs and the stories that arise from them lead to the adoption of dysfunctional coping behaviors.  Addictions and other compulsions often have their roots in dysfunctional beliefs about one’s self and the world.

In any event, the stories we create about situations (and the feelings that arise with the stories) filter and distort our experience of reality.  And we conflate the feelings that arise in response to situations with reality itself.  A vicious spiral of anxiety and dysfunctionally reactive behavior may ensue. We make ourselves miserable as a result.

It need not be so.  Indeed, when you can step back from the stories, you can have a new experience.

Identifying the stories you tell yourself is an essential part of therapy.  Taking a critical look at the stories, how they function in your life, understanding their purpose, evaluating their utility are all aspects of therapeutic work. 

Stories and feelings will arise in any given situation.  Such is life.  Life unfolds; feelings arise and fall.  Feel the feelings.  Let the feelings be, but do not add to them by creating stories about them.  Be aware of the stories that might be generating feelings.  Learn to step away from the stories.  Step back into the reality of the present moment—with all its knowns and unknowns.    Your responses will be freer, clearer, and life-affirming.