It’s not about the mistakes you make but how you respond
Perfectionism, which is in essence an attempt not to be confronted with our own limitations, has a lot to do with avoidance. In trying to reach some kind of infallible standard, we’re hoping to be safe from critique, accountability and – ultimately – being confronted with our own humanity.
We all mess up. We mess up because, in a country like the UK, we are socialised into a system that teaches us unfettered individualism, places us somewhere on the ‘ladder of humanity’ and encourages us to get as close to power as we can while pushing down those behind us. It has us believe that depending on other people is not only undesirable but reckless and dangerous to our own safety.
So, inevitably, we will do things that hurt other people because we are human, and also because have not been taught the skills of humility, collective care, solidarity, mutuality and interdependence. Even if you are actively trying to unlearn your own conditioning, you will be hurting people on the way, many times. I do, all the time. And it hurts the people I love the most.
Perfectionism keeps us from changing. It tells us that trying anything other than the espoused normative standard is deeply risky. It has us believe that the consequences would be social shunning, humiliation, loss of connection and safety. You can feel this very viscerally – I do. If I’m late to this thing, what will people think of me? How will I cope with my own judgement of not getting my act together to show up on time? There’s a drop in my stomach, a kind of fluttering, a sinking feeling in my chest that sounds like panic.
The easiest way out of that for me - which is not the wisest - is to outrun the judges in my mind. I get there on time, sweaty and flustered, but at least I don’t have to deal with the inner fallout over my imperfect lateness. I over-prepare for my next workshop even though I know that my fullest presence is the most important resource I can bring to this group of people. I get too many gifts for my friend’s birthday, just to be sure I have it covered, which actually makes them feel a bit uncomfortable and hinders rather than deepens our connection.
Another way out is denial. I say: “My neighbour needed some help so I was held up” rather than just admitting that I didn’t leave enough time for the journey. I point to my extensive preparation for the workshop to prove that I did everything right, even if it didn’t quite pan out as intended. When my friend lets on that having such a high bar for our friendship is maybe not what we both want to maintain, I downplay it and say it was really no big deal getting all those gifts for them.
In other words, I dig in my heels. I can’t face my own limitations, and, worst of all, the fact that in all my efforts I might still have missed something. And because I’m so terrified of that reality – because I have attached myself to an idea that being a worthy human being means being perfect – I can’t let it be true.
Photo of a red arrow in a wiggly line pointing to the right painted on a grey wall below a window reflecting tree branches
Dean Spade recently said: “I think harm is really harmful when it's denied. And it's […] a lot less harmful when it's recognized, when it's accompanied.” This, I think, is a deeply freeing insight. Trying to outmanoeuvre ourselves or deny our shortcomings so that we can avoid being confronted with our own humanity (and, ultimately, our own mortality) actually increases the hurt we cause other people.
Instead, if we can create some space for our own complexity and recognise that our limitations and mistakes are the twin siblings to our deepest qualities and accomplishments (and therefore inseparable from us), we might find a little more flexibility in how we respond when confronted with our shortcomings. This, most of the time, will incline the person who has been hurt towards generosity and forgiveness, sometimes even curiosity about how it all happened.
It's important that we don’t strive for perfection in our attempts towards an apology or accountability either. Authenticity is so much more important than anything else. It has to be felt. There are a few important things that help – such as acknowledging the impact the mistake has had on someone or a group of people and definitely leaving out words like “if”, “but” or “while”. Mia Mingus has given us some wonderful guidance on that. But above all, it’s about being genuinely sorry.
Perfectionism is a form of dehumanisation and conflict avoidance, first and foremost of and with ourselves. We are our own best practice ground. I wonder how much would shift if instead of being in shock, shame or denial about a mistake we’ve made, we directed that energy and attention towards a thoughtful, intentional and imperfect but human response.