Perfectionism is bad, actually.

As the outdated response to the classic interview question, “What’s your greatest weakness?” goes, I am a bit of a perfectionist.

I consider myself a planner and tend toward type A. I continuously engage with new projects for fear that I’ll lose momentum if I stop, even though I already have constant deadlines because of my work as a journalist. I’ve always been very ambitious and I pride myself on a strong, consistent work ethic. As a whole, I’m a bit of a workaholic.

Here’s why that’s a problem:

• Many tasks take way longer than necessary, leading to last-minute panic and crushing guilt.

• I have trouble letting go of things I feel I haven’t done up to my own arbitrary and impossibly high standards.

• It’s very difficult for me to feel proud of myself for the majority of my achievements, big or small.

• I have built a lot of my personal self-worth on what I can produce, rather than who I am as an individual.

• I feel the need to control aspects of my life that realistically cannot be fully controlled. 

• Boundary-setting has always been extremely challenging for me because I don’t want to upset anyone, even at my own expense.

• I rarely feel fully rested because it always feels like there’s something else I need to be doing.

• Everything becomes a bit of a “checklist,” which bleeds into all aspects of my life, including my personal relationships. 

I developed this as early as high school, but it solidified in college when I was a full-time student and working on staff at my school’s newspaper. During my college career, I also had three internships, two freelance gigs, accumulated more than 200 clips, and graduated summa cum laude. And I still didn’t feel like enough. 

For three-and-a-half years, my sleep schedule was wrecked, my relationship with food suffered greatly, I didn’t make many friends, and I was deeply anxious and depressed but didn’t know how to get off the seemingly endless hamster wheel. (This leads into a larger conversation about “hustle culture” and burnout, but I’ll be talking about those in later posts.)

Working the news desk on a regular 14-hour production Monday.

However, through therapy, self-reflection, and support from my loved ones, I am learning to break these patterns of toxic perfectionism. In sharing what’s been helping me through this process, I hope that if you’re in a similar position, you’ll gain value from it, too.

“The best antidote to anxiety is action”

This random quote from Twitter plays in my head whenever I find myself putting off tasks I know will take me 15 minutes or less. Of course, this does not mean the literal antidote to literal anxiety disorders is to do more work; I simply took it to mean that the hardest part of anything is just starting. After all, sometimes there’s no “right” way to do something and I can’t spend my life waiting around for the stars to align to begin. When my perfectionist tendencies are holding me back from doing a simple task, I remember that the instant I say “screw it” and commit to starting, I will feel so much better. 

“Perfect” doesn’t exist and that’s okay 

Perfection is such a nebulous concept to start with and the goal posts are constantly moving — especially if we’re the ones ripping up the stakes ourselves and repositioning them further and further away. It can be so difficult to feel dissatisfied with where we are and to neglect appreciating how far we’ve come.

My 16-year-old self, who filled notebooks with scribbled poetry and short stories and dreamed of making a living with her words, would be so proud of me. She would be impressed and excited that I achieved my dream of becoming a writer, now going on six years. And as I said in my introductory post, every time I say I write for a living, I get a little giddy.

Teenage me at one of many writing programs in which I participated during those years.

As I grow and change over time, so too do my standards for myself. This can be a good motivator, but it can also prevent me from appreciating what I have. My life now would probably look pretty perfect to that kid 10 years ago, and I’ve been trying to practice gratitude for everything it took to get here.

Doing nothing is enough

Most of us who exist in a capitalist society, which demands constant labor, feel a great amount of guilt or pressure when we’re not “producing.” For me, even social interactions with loved ones can feel exhausting when I’m burnt out from performing that labor, which makes me so sad.

I enjoy spending time by myself by sitting in the sun, lying down in bed with a bag of chips and a dumb TV show, going for a hike, playing a video game for hours, or wandering around a library or museum or a mall just to experience my surroundings. There is no “perfect” way to do these things. None of them require anything from me and I can engage with things that truly spark joy.

A gentle reminder from Yasmine Cheyenne on Instagram.

Things go wrong. It will be fine.

There are times when I do all the planning in the world and try to control each step and it still doesn’t work out. There are also times when I speak or act without consideration and end up hurting a loved one. 

I have a tendency to beat myself up for these things and hold onto them for a long time, which stymies me from learning and growing from the experiences going forward, and has a negative impact on my mental health.

My “worst” moments do not represent me and my flaws are not immutable. Doing my “best” can look different from day to day. Sometimes that includes making mistakes, and the kindest thing I can do for myself is to hold the space to try again.

Prioritize what really matters

One of the effects of perfectionism is pretty serious tunnel vision. I can get so bogged down in minute details that I lose the bigger picture, as well as what actually matters to me. I understand that I cannot control everything and this process will take the time it needs to take. I’m working on shifting my perspective toward deepening my personal relationships, doing more of what makes me feel content, and figuring out what it means to be fully me.

At my best, it looks something like this.

Paradoxically, because so much my self-worth is tied up in my perfectionist tendencies, unlearning these patterns and behaviors can feel like I’m losing bits of who I am. And that’s true, in a way, but I’m also learning to show up for people how and when it matters — including myself. 

I may never be perfect at it, but that’s kind of the point.