I’m a perfectionist. And I’m not talking about being a little perfectionist-y. I’m talking about being a full blown, 100% pure, grade A, unadulterated perfectionist.
Don’t believe me? Just ask anyone that has had the pleasure of knowing me for more than ten frustrating minutes and they’ll tell you all about it.
Now, for those of you that have not had the opportunity to swim around in the joys of perfectionism, allow me to paint a vivid picture for you.
Imagine taking a punch to the face every time you do anything. And I do mean anything. All because you weren’t able to do it as well as it could have been done. Had it been done by a magical unicorn made from warm hugs and happy thoughts with rainbows shooting out of its ass.
It causes you to rethink. To get stuck. To make excuses. To burn out. To cause delays. And ultimately, to give up.
And that’s exactly what I did.
I Gave Up.
In this case, I gave up writing. Something I love. Something I’m good at. Something that brings joy and meaning to my life. Gone. All because I couldn’t get out of my own way. All because writing had become more painful to do than it was not to do.
All because I got tired of the struggle that comes with needing it to be perfect.
It had a grammatical error. It didn’t sound right. It was too long. It was too short. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t as good as other posts. It wasn’t ready. It was too transparent. It was not transparent enough. It contained the word ass. Twice. It was ugly. It was wrong. It was stupid. It made no sense.
It wasn’t perfect.
But because of those imperfections, I became friends with the people kind enough to reach out and send me corrections. Because of those imperfections, I learned something new every day that made me a better writer. Because of those imperfections, I left a safe place for other people to be vulnerable. Because of those imperfections, I unknowingly gave the people around me permission to gracefully make mistakes.
None of this would have happened otherwise.
So, maybe it is perfect. Exactly as it is.
And maybe I have to get back in there and write. And maybe I just need to embrace the fact that perfection doesn’t quite look like I thought it would.
And maybe you do too.
Maybe you need to let go of not getting it right and just embrace it for what it is and what it brings.