The Year I Quit Trying to Be “Perfect”: A Beginner’s Guide to Embracing Imperfection and Finding Joy in the Mess.
The Pursuit of Perfect
Perfection. It’s what I had been chasing for as long as I could remember. Straight A’s, leadership positions, athletic awards, acceptance to a top university program. I built my identity on being the best, on having it all together. Perfection was my drug of choice.
But in always reaching for the next rung on the ladder, I missed out on something important — joy. My competitiveness and drive for perfection stole my ability to live in and enjoy each moment. I was living for some distant goal of a perfect future rather than for today.
Have you ever felt similar? Like you need to prove your worth through external validation and achievements? Has the quest for perfection left you feeling empty and burnt out?
If so, you’re not alone. This was me just a couple years ago. But life has a funny way of upending our illusions of control. And so the year I turned 19, the universe gave me a gift — it turned my world of perfection upside down.
When Things Fall Apart
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” — Rumi
The call came on a Tuesday night. Through tears, my mom told me that my dad had been in a serious cycling accident. He was alive but with extensive injuries — a traumatic brain injury, shattered collarbone, broken ribs. He would survive, but recovery would be measured in years, not weeks.
In an instant, my family’s world was upended. The invincible, infallible father I had looked up to and tried to emulate my entire life suddenly seemed fragile. The future we had imagined collapsed into a mess of uncertainty.
My first response was to try to regain control. I told myself I would be strong so my family didn’t have to worry. I would care for my dad, get perfect grades, work, apply for scholarships — I could handle it all. I would make order from this chaos through the sheer force of my will.
Can you relate to this desire to control and perfect in times of turmoil? I now know it as a common response to grief and trauma. When facing the unknown, we cling to what is familiar — for me, that drive to achieve and appear perfect.
Embracing the Mess
“You can’t calm the storm, so stop trying. What you can do is calm yourself. The storm will pass.”
Of course, I quickly found that chasing perfection amidst trauma is like trying to contain a hurricane in a paper bag. The winds of grief, pain and uncertainty cannot be controlled.
Two months after the accident, I hit an unexpected storm — I completely crumbled under the weight I had placed on myself. Panic attacks, insomnia, migraines. My body was screaming for me to let go.
In my pain, I turned to writing. I wrote a letter to my dad — all the things I wished I could say to him. The heartbreak, the longing, the hope, the joy of simpler times. I wrote until my tears blurred the pages.
And then I did something crazy. I read the letter out loud to my therapist. My real, imperfect, human experience laid bare. And she didn’t gasp or judge. She saw my pain and thanked me for my vulnerability. I realized perfection wasn’t required or even desired here.
This act of reading my imperfect truth changed everything. I saw that the messy, broken parts of me didn’t need to be hidden. My pain didn’t make me defective, it made me human. I could embrace the chaos, because calm comes from within, not without.
Can you recall a time you allowed yourself to be imperfect? A time you chose courage and vulnerability over image and achievement? What did you discover in yourself through embracing the messiness of life? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.
The Alternative to Perfect
“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” — Marilyn Monroe
Letting go of perfection as the standard meant I could embrace new measures of success — authenticity, vulnerability, self-compassion.
I made taking care of myself the first priority, not an afterthought. I rediscovered activities that brought me joy as a child — creative writing, painting, hiking, leisurely conversations with friends.
I became intentional about gratitude — noting each moment of beauty, connection, kindness I encountered. Even on the hard days, there were gifts if I was willing to see them.
And I learned to celebrate my journey, not just the outcomes. Each courageous conversation, small act of self-care, or instance of emotional growth was a triumph to be savored. Progress began to mean healing from my perfectionism, not achieving flawless grades or performance.
What would it look like for you to celebrate imperfection and the messy beauty of being human? Could self-care replace accomplishment as a metric for success? How might it feel to appreciate each courageous step forward, not just the milestones?
Owning My Story
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” — Maya Angelou
As I learned to embrace imperfection in myself, I also found the courage to share my story with others. I wrote openly about my dad’s accident and my mental health challenges.
And to my surprise, my story resonated. Friends opened up about their secret struggles, thanking me for my honesty. Even strangers related to my pain and growth.
It turned out my messiness connected me more deeply with others than any pretense of perfection ever could. My imperfect journey gave people permission to be human too. My sensitivity born of suffering allowed me to comfort those also navigating hardship.
Vulnerability — both living and sharing our authentic stories — is the antidote to shame, isolation and lies. And while excruciating, it bonds us together in our shared imperfection. It draws us to our depths, to what is most real.
Will you take Maya Angelou’s dare? Find the courage to pen and then share what wants to be expressed from the deepest you? What transformations might occur if we embraced truthful storytelling over image management?
Come As You Are
”To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance” — Oscar Wilde
My quest for perfection once filled me with self-loathing. My flaws made me unworthy; my missteps unacceptable. I oriented my life around avoiding failure and hiding weakness.
But through opening to the messiness of life and relationships, my self-perception has softened into compassion. My sensitivity, anxiety, quirks — I see them now as belonging to the complex wholeness of who I am, not defects needing to be erased.
I’ve found that self-love isn’t earned by accumulating accomplishments or accolades. It comes by fully accepting every facet of ourselves — dark shadows and bright colors, stillness and movement, grief and wonder. We are worthy because we exist, not because we meet impossible standards.
Can you imagine what an act of radical self-love it might be to smile at your reflection and proclaim, “I am imperfect, and I am enough”? What would change by believing you are loved not for what you achieve but simply because you are you?
The Choice
”There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” ― Zora Neale Hurston
My dad’s accident confrontationally invited me to re-examine how I was living. I realized perfection as my standard was fueled by fear — of unworthiness, inferiority, shame if anyone glimpsed my true self.
This traumatic challenge clarified that chasing externals would never grant me peace. My worth couldn’t be earned, only recognized. And freedom would come not through controlling life’s messiness, but learning to dance within it.
I share my winding tale of moving from perfectionism to self-compassion because I believe it asks all of us important questions. What drives your striving — passion or fear? Do you know yourself as enough outside of achievements? How might you walk more gently with yourself and others remembering we are beautifully imperfect?
Life will continue to surprise us with twists we can’t anticipate. But perhaps the peace and freedom we seek are not found in engineering existence to go as we wish. Maybe instead, they emerge as we let go, open up, embrace each moment in all its messy beauty.
What parts of yourself have you kept locked away, fearing they are unworthy of exposure? Where might you welcome a little more chaos and unpredictability into your journey? What would it mean if you could look in the mirror, flaws and all, and whisper “I am enough”?
I don’t have all the answers yet. My path of embracing imperfection continues to unfold, often in unexpected ways. But as Zora Neale Hurston notes, some years ask questions and others offer answers. For now, I savor the questions that usher me inward. And I keep walking.
One step forward toward authenticity. One act of self-compassion when I miss the mark. One choice at a time — embracing the messy miracle of being beautifully human.
Will you join me?
