The danger of perfectionism

It was the summer of 2010 when I sat in a psychiatrist’s chair for the first time. Two weeks before, I had gone to the doctor on my mom’s insistence, because I had missed my period for four months.

No, it wasn’t pregnancy. It was anorexia.

Arms crossed in a sweater in the hot summer weather, I stubbornly answered this doctor’s questions about my family, about my life as a gymnast, and about my high school experience.

I didn’t find talking about myself to be of much help, but I credit her for one thing she pointed out.

I was a perfectionist, and that’s what led me to a 95 pound, 5'4", bone-protruding body.

Whether perfectionism was a consequence of nature or nurture, it became a destruction factor.

“Not many girls can continue dieting and over-exercising for as long as you did,” she told me, “Yet, you found the willpower because you’re a perfectionist.”

I had chosen to work toward the “ideal body”, which I believed would score a perfect 10 from my friends and from society.

However, I didn’t realize that this perfecting process wouldn’t stop — that I would forever be at 9.9. The truth was that society wasn’t the one judging me — I was. And I was pushing the finish line further away as I approached it. That’s what took me on a dangerous unstoppable spiral down to nearly destroying my body.

I’ve been a long road of recovery since then. No, I never brought the “ideal body” line closer, I never reached the line, and I never eliminated the line. The change occurred when I took my eyes off the line. I found more purposeful goals to strive for.

It would take more than that though. Perfectionism took a toll in other areas — trying to be the perfect friend and failing, trying to produce perfect work and failing, and trying to be the perfect Christian and failing.

And when I failed, I would cry. I had disappointed others, disappointed myself, and disappointed God.

After another bout of tears this summer when I failed to uphold a perfect character, I realized the hypocrisy of my mindset as a Christian. What did Jesus die for if we could be perfect? We wouldn’t need his nailed hands and feet and pierced body if we could reach heaven with hard work and willpower.

I knew it and preached it, but I didn’t live it.

By depending on myself to be perfect and even to define what perfect meant, I took God’s place. I was my own god, trying to save myself.

Where did that get me? Unfulfillment, disappointment, and a never-ending hamster wheel of trying and failing. No, I couldn’t save myself.

So I went back to the gospel.

All of mankind was crippled with sin, unable to climb the Mt Everest of perfection, and stuck forever at the bottom. We tried to climb a few metres of good deeds, but slipped back as soon as a selfish thought struck our minds.

So Jesus joined us at the bottom for the upward climb, enduring the wind, the cold nights, and the frostbite. More than that, he endured our hate as we clawed at him to hold him back. But his struggle was not without reward. He had reached the top.

But then, out of overwhelming love, he turned around, came back down, and gave us the summit flag, accrediting us with his climb. He imputed his perfect life on to us as if we had lived it, although we never did and never could.

What did that, then, mean to me as a perfectionist?

I could rest in the assurance that it had been done for me, that the perfect life had been lived and my name was attached. I would still have to fight against my crippling sin and imperfection everyday, but that’s where I could focus on the journey, not just the top. I would be stronger every time I fell and got back up, every time I made decisions that were better than last time, and every time I learned from my failures.

And the top? That changed too. The goal would no longer be a life of perfection. It would be a deep, intimate relationship with the one who created me and saved me. The real #relationshipgoals.

If you’re a perfectionist like me, you’ll find many articles advising you to settle with “good enough” — to reach contentment so you can efficiently act and make decisions. I totally agree — sometimes it’s necessary for work and life. But I know that it’s also much easier said than done, and the tune of “you could have done better” will always linger in your head.

So try something different. Believe in the guy who already achieved perfection for you, accept his offer to switch your imperfect role for his, and make the journey as important as the end.