I recently read an article about Gen Z’ers promoting anti-perfectionism. Forgive the clichés, but the article hinted that to “be real” and to “be yourself” holds tremendous power when it comes to happiness. Huh! These “kids” have figured out something that’s taken me decades.
Throughout the years I’ve experienced many instances of imperfection in others whom I’ve admired. Unfortunately it didn’t stifle my need for perfection.
The first experience was a bridal shower hosted by a well-liked coworker. The venue was her BASEMENT and snacks were served in BAKING PANS! Horrified? Maybe at first. Then I recognized you didn’t have to be flawless to be accepted.
Many years later, my sister, Sandy, and I met at the Omni Hotel to spend some time in Indianapolis. Sitting in the lobby I saw her approach the check-in desk. She was wearing the most outrageous socks I had ever seen. After the initial shock, I found myself a bit envious. Sandy felt free enough to wear something so bold at a “fancy” hotel without worry.
Free. I now understand how freedom is stymied when you’re obsessively striving to be always seen as amazing and fabulous—an impossible goal.
To me, getting older equates to less time to waste. Trying to be perfect takes a lot of time and attention, leaving little room for enjoyment. I’ve begun to manage my need for perfection. Guess what? Stress, anxiety, procrastination, lack of focus and maybe a little self-loathing have surprisingly lessened. I’m willing to try new things without fear of failure, I’m aware that “done” is better than perfect, and I have learned to accept compliments.
I wish I had bullet points for you to follow, but it happened so organically I can only hope you get to experience this liberating place that I have.
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