Somebody wise would say there’s no such thing as perfection.
That person has never tasted poutine.
Maybe that person has never spent a morning in bed with coffee and a book. Or felt the exhilarating sensation of walking down the street in platform sneakers after a long Quebecois winter. Or watched an episode of Star Trek while eating the best Szechuan noodles in town. There are plenty of perfect moments in life, all we have to do is keep our eyes open.
But that wise person is also right. There is no such thing as perfection, because this essay isn’t about gratitude or recognizing little pockets of beauty and contentment.
This essay hasn’t been easy to write. I’ve rewritten it many times. I’ve been grinding my teeth at night over it. I’m sitting at my desk with a heat bag around my neck as I type these words. I’ve done everything I can to avoid working on this piece. I’ve been on useless errands to the pharmacy, started loads of laundry that could have waited, spent too much time on Instagram.
There’s no perfect way to write about perfection, so I’ll just start with the basics. The Oxford Dictionary defines perfection as “the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.”
At some point in my life, probably at a very young age, I picked up the belief that flaws and defects were bad. Perfection was the goal. Many of us have been obsessed with perfection in some way or another. Whether that’s perfect grades, the perfect body, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect career, the perfect salary, the perfect home, the perfect family, the perfect relationship, being the perfect parent or the perfect child, perfection has been (and still is) a driving force in our lives. We’ve been taught to draw inside the lines. Anything outside the lines is unacceptable.
When asked about my “flaws” in job interviews, I was that smug person who’d answer “I’m a perfectionist.” I once had a manager proudly proclaim that her team was composed of only Type A personalities. I hadn’t heard about the ABCs of personalities before, but I liked how Type A sounded. I decided my manager was right. Our team was indeed efficient and organized. We were results-oriented, get-shit-done admin assistants who delivered briefings on time. We never made mistakes. Our performance was outstanding and so was our reputation.
This reputation of excellence followed me everywhere in my professional life. The validation I received from my superiors fed the ever-growing quest for perfection as an engineer’s secretary, a technical editor and an in-house copywriter. There’s a difference between perfection and excellence. I consider excellence a positive thing. Excellence drives discovery, growth and innovation. Excellence leaves space for mistakes, because that’s how we learn. But perfection is excellence’s ego. Perfection goes hand in hand with performance and people pleasing. They’re kind of like the triplets from hell.
The triplets from hell leave a trail of disaster everywhere they go. They come into your life like a tornado, turn your house upside down and leave you exhausted and disheveled to pick up the pieces until the next playdate. You don’t want to invite them over to your house anymore, but you can’t help it. They’re adorable. All they have to do is smile or give you a hug, and you forget how little they make you feel. You don’t want to admit it, but you don’t know who you are without them.
So what happens when life gets messy?
What happens, for example, when you have a baby and you realize that there’s no such thing as perfection in motherhood, yet you hold on to that ideal for longer than you should because you can’t bear to look in the mirror and face your flaws? And I’m not talking about hormonal acne. I’m talking about the real, deep stuff lurking in the shadows. You know, those terrifying things you don’t want to admit about yourself.
What happens, for example, when your body can no longer endure your perfection shenanigans and breaks down? You can no longer perform and show what a perfect little girl you are because you have to go on medical leave. Now everyone at work, including your boss, finds out you’re covered in cracks and can’t keep it together.
What happens, for example, when you leave the workforce to become a stay-at-home mom? Who’s your boss now? Who’s going to tell you how amazing you are?
What happens, for example, when you realize your obsession with perfection means that deep down, you don’t think you’re good enough?
Sounds like someone had to go to therapy.
And that someone did, and that person is obviously me. When you start doing the work, you initially think you need to be cured from something. You think once you’ve sorted through your shit, everything will be tidy and neat. No need to go through the junk drawer ever again, because junk will no longer exist in the next chapter of your life. But that’s just the obsession with perfection talking.
I don’t know what managers ask in job interviews anymore, but they were to ask about my flaws today, I’d say I’m a mess. I’m someone who gets easily overwhelmed. Someone whose body doesn’t let her keep up with the general consensus and beat of what a “successful life” looks like. I’m too self-aware. I’m not financially savvy. I often assume the worst. I don’t like conflict. I have a hard time setting boundaries. I’m an energy sponge and sometimes act like a little circus monkey to entertain people, because I think it’s my job to change their mood. I’m still too hard on myself sometimes.
I mentioned earlier that this essay wasn’t about gratitude or recognizing life’s little pockets of beauty and contentment. Maybe it is. I’m okay with my inner mess. I’m more than my mess too; I’m also my kindness, my generosity, my creativity, my humor, my intuition, my hopes and my dreams.
See you in two weeks for some fun announcements!
Chère Michelle, tu as PARFAITEMENT raison, sans Pression ! Pression serait une autre soeur pour les "triplets from hell"!! J'ai souri en lisant ça ! La photo des trois petites qui jouent à Madame m'a bien fait sourire aussi. Incarneraient-elles ces triplées en visite chez toi pour la playdate ?!
Je peux m'identifier à bien des choses que tu décris, surtout dans l'avant-dernier paragraphe qui commence par "I don't know what managers ask...". Je pourrais facilement en faire un couper-coller !
Ton essai m'amène à penser à la sensibilité, qui, dans mon cas, pourrait être la jumelle fraternelle du perfectionnisme. Maybe it's because we care so much??? J'ai souvent pensé que j'étais trop sensible pour le genre de travail que je faisais. Celui-ci m'épuisait (le travail) ! Par contre, comme on m'a déjà dit, je n'aurais pas pu faire (ou BIEN faire je dirais !) ce que je faisais sans être une personne sensible.
Je pense que la sensibilité va de pair avec cette connaissance de soi (self awareness), qu'elle soit de nature perfectionniste ou pas. Je ne pense pas qu'il s'agisse d'orgueil "mal placé", ni de s'attarder trop longtemps à sa petite personne. (Tu peux sans doute repérer ma culture catholique entre les lignes ! Ha ! Ha ! Add THAT to perfectionism!!!)
OK, je viens de me rendre compte que tu as employé le mot "Perfection" et non "Perfectionism" dans ton essai...Si j'y réfléchissais encore un peu plus, je pourrais peut-être comprendre pourquoi mon commentaire ou mon choix de mots est devenu "perfectionnisme" et non "perfection"...C'est sûr que dans mon cas, d'après ma perception des choses, le concept de perfectionnisme devient un défaut plus qu'une quête de perfection. (Serait-ce encore l'interprétation catholique qui remonterait à la surface ?!)
Je reviens à ton avant-dernier paragraphe Michelle. Tu ne pourrais pas écrire de façon aussi originale si tu n'étais pas connectée à ton monde intérieur et si tu n'étais pas tout ce qui fait ton "toi", tu sais ?
Je pense que notre entourage, soit-il familial ou plus élargi, peut aussi nous imposer un comportement de perfectionniste, consciemment ou pas. Trop souvent, on se sent comme si on devait agir d'une façon parfaite ou faire des choix "parfaits" qui correspondent aux attentes des personnes qui font partie de notre entourage. Le plus drôle dans tout ça c'est que ces mêmes personnes peuvent nous dire de ne pas être aussi perfectionnistes ou même nous accuser d'être un "people pleaser" ! How's that for internal turmoil?!! What's wrong with trying to please if it's for the greater good? (Definition of greater good: The benefit of the public, of more people than oneself, for the greater good.)
Ça devient un cercle vicieux quand on essaie de (se) prouver qu'on n'essaie pas d'atteindre la perfection ou de plaire à tout prix. La quête d'équilibre fait aussi partie des comportements de "perfection" ! Il y a sans doute des traits de la Vierge que je suis qui ressortent dans mon commentaire.
Je ne sais pas si ce que j'écris fait du sens...!!@??***!
Merci de me faire réfléchir comme tu sais si bien le faire chère Michelle.
I think that you're "poyfect"!!!
XXX brigitte