A couple of weeks ago I made a minor admin error at work, and it really affected me. It revealed how deeply rooted my perfectionism can still be. I’m aware of it, I work on it, but this tiny incident reawoke something — like Godzilla appearing from the hollow earth.
And when I say I’m a perfectionist, here’s what I don’t mean.
It doesn’t mean I think I’m great at everything, or that everything I do has to be perfect because I’m the best. It’s the opposite. I grew up in a world where success was measured in numbers, and where adults I should have been able to trust let me down in various ways. So over the years I developed this idea that I would be the opposite of that as an adult — that I would never let anyone down, and that the lessons I model would show that success looks like whatever allows you to flourish in the fullness of your potential.
On paper, these are great ideals for a parent and for someone who works with young people. And I wouldn’t disagree.
But here’s the dark side of perfectionism…
The World Outside the Window 