After a particularly difficult week of high school soccer, my cousin, then a freshman, was feeling defeated. My uncle, ever the history buff and saver of the day, printed out and taped over my cousin’s desk a copy of Teddy Roosevelt’s “The Man in the Arena” speech:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly…”
Upon hearing this story, I naturally and immediately googled the speech so I too could print a copy for myself and make it the front cover of my students’ data folders. As I scanned my list of results, I stumbled across Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead and naturally and immediately ordered a copy. Each time I read it, I discover something new to consider. When I first read it, I was struck by the notion of embracing vulnerability. Skimming it weeks later, I imagined what “normalizing discomfort” would look like in my classroom and in our schools. Recently, I’ve been coming back to the chapter on vulnerability armor, ways to protect oneself from feeling vulnerable. My shield? Perfectionism.
I recently shared my pursuit to manage my energy. To start, I began to examine my habits, my actions, and my thought patterns. I felt like I was working hard each day, staying for hours after school, but I had little to show for my time. I slowly realized that I like to think about things and plan them to perfection. The only (obvious) problem being: perfection does not exist. I have developed an all-or-nothing mentality. I want everything to be exactly the way I have it planned in my mind or I don’t want to do it at all. This mindset looks different than my middle and high school years, when it was possible to attend soccer or track practice after school and eat a healthy dinner and wash the dishes and study until the wee hours of the morning and feel a sense of accomplishment. Both ways of thinking and behaving, however, are still forms of perfectionism.
“Is perfectionism an issue for you? If so, what’s one of your strategies for managing it? I ask this question because, in all of my data collecting, I’ve never heard one person attribute their joy, success, or Wholeheartedness to being perfect. In fact, what I’ve heard over and over throughout the years is one clear message: ‘The most valuable and important things in my life came to me when I cultivated the courage to be vulnerable, imperfect, and self-compassionate.’ Perfectionism is not the path that leads us to our gifts and to our sense of purpose; it’s the hazardous detour.”
In middle and high school, I had time to force my work to meet my expectations. As a “real person” with more responsibilities, time management seemed to become an unrealistic goal, a fantasy. I kept thinking the problem was that I didn’t have enough time, not that I was mismanaging the time. Throughout my unraveling, I have come to understand that the pursuit of perfection is debilitating and has caused great stress and anxiety.
“Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving for excellence. Perfectionism is not about healthy achievement and growth. Perfectionism is a defensive move. It’s the belief that if we do things perfectly and look perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgment, and shame. Perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around, thinking it will protect us, when in fact it’s the things that’s really preventing us from being seen.”
“Perfectionism is not self-improvement. Perfectionism is, at its core, about trying to earn approval. Most perfectionists grew up being praised for achievement and performance (grades, manners, rule following, people pleasing, appearance, sports). Somewhere along the way, they adopted this dangerous and debilitating belief system: ‘I am what I accomplish and how well I accomplish it. Please. Perform. Perfect.’ Healthy striving is self-focused: How can I improve? Perfectionism is other-focused: What will they think? Perfectionism is a hustle.”
“Perfectionism is not the key to success. In fact, research shows that perfectionism hampers achievement. Perfectionism is correlated with depression, anxiety, addiction, and life paralysis or missed opportunities. The fear of failing, making mistakes, not meeting people’s expectations, and being criticized keeps us outside of the arena where healthy competition and striving unfolds.”
“Perfectionism is not a way to avoid shame. Perfectionism is a form of shame. Where we struggle with perfectionism, we struggle with shame.”
I ended my last post with Joan Didion’s thoughts on self-respect. When you have it, you have everything. Struggling with perfectionism, and therefore shame, makes me feel less than, not worthy. It’s hard to have self-respect when you feel that way.
Image: Brene Brown’s Facebook