Why Are We Obsessed With Perfection?
Do We Even Understand What We’re Chasing?
Perfection is emphasized everywhere. Perfect homes, perfect jobs, perfect images, perfect bodies, perfect partners, perfect children, perfect floors. An elusive perception we continually chase.
A chronic, self-admitted perfectionist, I stopped to think only recently (today) about what exactly I’m trying to achieve and why. You can thank this story by Katie Jgln for sparking my curiosity. As she discusses the troubles and hypocrisies around the Kardashian standard of beauty, her words also underscore a broader challenge — the pursuit of perfection.
Long-suffering and recovering perfectionists alike will tell you the work involved in achieving perfection sucks. Progress occurs about as well as a spinning tire in a muddy snowbank. At least when you’re on a treadmill, you’re getting exercise.
We soothe and satisfy our failure to perfect by jamming adverbs in front of the word: “almost,” “just about,” and “damn near.” Luckily, we’re usually okay with being “close enough.”
I thought about the times I fell into my factory default setting of a perfectionist. What does perfection mean, at least to me?
Here’s a screenshot of a quick Google search:
Entirely good (desirable), without anything bad (undesirable).
If we all stop for a moment and think, consider how the absence of certain things would carry more weight in our definition of perfection than the presence of other aspects:
No challenge. No hypocrisy. No confusion. No blemishes. No wrong. NO PROBLEMS.
What do we think perfection is going to bring us? What does it mean for us if we achieve the perfect body, the perfect home, the perfect job?
Over the years, I’ve assumed perfection would bring:
Peace. Security. Respect. Admiration. Satisfaction. Approval. Confidence.
Let’s unpack everything wrong with my previous paragraph:
Assumed. Not definitively knowing. Merely guessing, by vague, anecdotal data. I love that old adage, “Never assume. It makes an ass out of u and me.”
Would. Not DOES. I’m not even concretely positive perfection creates that list of desirable feelings. Why? Because I’ve never been perfect. And also, because I have achieved all of those expressions in wildly imperfect circumstances, with less-than-ideal performances.
If we know how to experience feelings of admiration, peace, confidence et al, with flawed work, why are we obsessed with doing the work flawlessly and achieving flawlessness?
When I lived a superbly healthy lifestyle, my body looked amazing and I couldn’t see it. I may have felt amazing, but I didn’t look perfect. I just needed a few more things, and then I’d look perfect. I knew general perfection was impossible, so I reframed it perfectly to pertain to my personal body type, skin color, hair texture, and facial structure. It didn’t help.
Now, years later, after time, life, and goofy decisions, my body has melted. I look at those pictures from yesteryear and think, “Why on earth was I so hard on myself?” I don’t even remember what parts of my physical appearance needed improvement to satisfy my definition of “perfect.”
Isn’t it also interesting how if we meet people with a “perfect” life (whatever that means), it only takes one or two mildly investigative questions to learn these folk are dealing with serious issues? Just when we think we finally have an example of existence void of problems, perfection slips from our grasp and flutters away once again, cackling, “Catch me if you can!”
Photo by Paige Cody on Unsplash
The word, the idea, and the standard need to be eradicated. It won’t be and probably has somewhere in the universe where it can exist without bothering everyone. So if we can’t get rid of it, can we at least ignore it? Can we brush the pest away when it nags us in our minds, in media, in marketing?
The shift in mindset has already begun. The tools are available (I recommend Caroline Leaf’s book “Mindset” as an excellent way to start unlearning perfectionist tendencies). Can we 100% commit to embracing the more realistic path of progress over perfection, accepting the sour as it’s needed to support the sweet?
Maybe, maybe not. After all, nobody’s perfect.
