I Wasn’t A Very Good Perfectionist, So I Quit

The freedom of “good enough”

“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor.” — Anne Lamott

I am anxious by nature. That means I grew up with my stomach in knots and always worried that I wasn’t good enough.

Truth was that I wasn’t by some standards. I had ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder), which not only meant that I often have focus problems, but the tension to stay hyper-focused adds more weight to the load.

I was also dyslexic, though it manifested itself in different ways than most. I reversed letters when I learned to write, but not for a long time. As a natural reader, it was easier for me to learn to compensate than it is for many dyslexics.

But putting my shoes on the right foot — I have selectively forgotten how long it took me to do that correctly, but let’s just say that I was probably in the bottom ten percent for my age group.

My mother was patient with me. She’d show me my foot, and show me the shoe, and say. “See how your foot curves in this direction? Just match up the shoe that does the same.”

Which brought out another problem with my dyslexia. I can’t reverse mirror images, so this sort of matching was also a bit of a challenge. Neither of us understood that at the time. But eventually, I learned. I now put my shoes on the right feet 99% of the time.

Then there’s my hand-eye coordination. It was never my strong suit. I was looking at my report cards from first through third grades recently, and my handwriting grades were abysmal. Well, I got a B+ in first grade, but we all know that’s probably the lowest grade they gave out for a nice student who obviously put a lot of effort into trying to get better.

Give me a craft project and it simply wouldn’t be completed. I get discouraged early on and quit.

There was also my sports ability. I was unathletic. In elementary school, and truly through much of life, people put others in the “athletic” or “unathletic” category and some never emerge from that label. I avoided anything athletic in nature, and yes — I have the trauma of being the last one picked for teams often. Such an evil practice.

High school came and so did communal showers. Well, we had our stalls for a couple of minutes, but with fewer showers than people we had to be quick about it. And we had to take our showers. There’s a lot of body comparison that goes on at that age. Mine didn’t measure up. More trauma.

Inwardly I knew I wasn’t perfect, but I kept trying to act as though I was on the outside. I was an abysmal failure. I spent my life stressed out and frustrated. It’s a heavy load for a kid to carry. I also felt very alone in my imperfect world.

It was in high school that I first chose to be imperfect for a reason. I knew if my grades were at the top of the class, I may end up as Valedictorian or Salutatorian, and then I would have to make a speech in front of my classmates, family, and in my world — everyone! This was my nightmare. I carefully planned those years to have grades good enough for college but making sure I was not in the top few. No one ever knew this strategy, even my best friend. But I was successful and as I graduated with honors, but didn’t have to make a speech, I realized that sometimes it pays to be a bit “less than”.

I started realizing life is much easier if you don’t feel the need to be number one. With less stress, life is more fun. My pathway to being satisfied with “good enough” started.

Along the way, I ran into some untraditional types who were perfect for me. I remember during my first meeting with my college advisor, he told me that as a Broadcast Journalism major grades should not be my priority. Instead, I should focus on experiences. I needed to have a good view of life and people and what’s going on in the world. While that may be unusual advice for most advisors to give, and I am not sure if the university would have supported him 100%, for me, it was the beginning of a life strategy. I still am taking his advice.

I ended up with a career, not in Broadcast Journalism, but insurance. A weird transition and not one I thought would be permanent. I simply looked too young out of college for my goal of a reporter’s job. But insurance enabled me to have a personal life that was my focus, especially in my twenties. I could work regular hours and my weekends were my own. I still was seeking experiences.

My body image had improved in college. Share a bathroom with seven or eight other girls, and you can’t have a lot of modesty. I got over that quickly. Nobody was paying much attention to my body. I learned bodies of all shapes and sizes and colors are quite beautiful, though few were perfect. My friends were not looking to judge me negatively. Our bodies mattered less than whether we were hogging the shower or the mirrors.

When two of my guy friends urged me to join a gym with them, I did. I thought it would be fun to spend the time with them. I knew I wasn’t athletic and didn’t expect that to change, but they were fun and I didn’t want to miss out.

In the process, I learned that I enjoyed gym time. My friends probably survived six months of a gym membership, but I carried on without them. No one at the gym cared if I was “good” or not. They cared that I was there and noticed when I was not. There was a camaraderie. Strangers would offer advice or tell me if my form looked off. I wasn’t crushed. I was thankful. I learned that being an athlete was simply putting in the time and doing athletic things. It made me try other athletic things I had been intimidated by.

My handwriting has never improved, but computers were created for people like me. After elementary school, few judged my handwriting anyway.

I will never be a great craftsman — my hand-eye coordination makes that impossible. But I have friends and family who are great at doing things with their hands. They are always ready to lend one of these talented hands when I need it.

Oh, on occasion I find myself in a stupid wine and paint session with girlfriends (and I hate these friends for a time afterward), but I have learned that I can endure my friends laughing at my painting. Well, I did that one time. Now I know I can go and just sip wine and laugh with my friends. There are some things in life you just don’t have to participate in.

Wendi Wasek wrote in Forbes about an increase in the struggle of perfectionism as we deal with the impacts of COVID-19.

“For perfectionists, these circumstances are a huge temptation to double down on familiar, and often unproductive, habits, such as excessive preparation, overwork and unrealistic expectations for oneself and others. Over time, these habits create undue stress and pressure, which can slowly bring perfectionists to their breaking points.”

Your perfectionism doesn’t just impact your life. It also impacts the lives of those around you. Perfectionists often have unrealistic expectations for themselves and impose those standards on others. They often leave people thinking they are failures.

I have learned to ignore the opinions of perfectionists in my life. Often they will tell you that if you work a bit harder or use their “system.” your life will become easier. From the outside looking in, I can see their ways are often incredibly stressful for their own lives, and meeting their standards would be impossible for me.

“Many people think of perfectionism as striving to be your best, but it is not about self-improvement; it’s about earning approval and acceptance.” — Brene Brown

Removing perfectionism from my life was a bit more of a necessity for me than most, but it has opened up the world to me. I try more things than the average person because I no longer have major anxiety about failing. I’ve also learned it’s not only fine but good, to ask for help. When something needs to get done, I can create a support team to cover my deficiencies. It bonds me to people and has created some amazing friendships.

Very few things in life need to be done perfectly and there is great freedom and happiness when you realize this and adopt it as your mindset. While I am anxious by nature, I choose not to live in my anxiety. I shed it as you would a garment, and embrace the freedom that “good enough” brings.

Kim McKinney may not be perfect but lives her life with joy and enthusiasm. She prefers to hang out with other imperfect people. She finds they are more fun and will appreciate the beauty in imperfection with her.

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