To look at this picture (or my house in general) I don’t think you’d describe me as a perfectionist. But I can see it hidden in there, between the wadded up paper towels jammed next to the paper towel roll.
The other night my mom gave me some dishes she was getting rid of. She wrapped them in clean paper towels for the drive home so nothing would break. When I unwrapped them, I couldn’t throw the paper towels away. That would be wasteful (morally wrong). I couldn’t straighten them all out. That would be wasting time (morally wrong). So I jammed them next to the paper towel roll and moved on with life.
This looks messy. My messy tendencies were often the excuse I used to not confront my perfectionistic tendencies. I can’t be a perfectionist! Have you seen my closet? But my perfectionism isn’t centered on the externals. It’s a quiet, private battle I wage against myself. It’s a moral perfectionism that is one of my greatest attributes and strongest weaknesses.
Are the wadded up paper towels morally wrong in some way? No. So I don’t care. Is my hair perfect? Never. Because perfect hair isn’t a moral issue. In fact, if I spend too much time on my hair, I may feel my perfectionist guilt creeping in. It says to me, “That’s vain. If you spent less time on your hair, you could be more productive.” So I throw it in a ponytail and start doing the work my perfectionism tells me actually matters.
If you love someone that struggles with perfectionism, you may not be able to see it from the outside. They may not look perfect or feel compelled to keep a perfect home, which may actually be part of their perfectionism. It’s not the external things they’re struggling with. It’s an internal gracelessness that robs them of joy. It’s the feeling that they’re never doing quite enough. It’s the inability to embrace and face their mistakes. It’s a voice that keeps them awake, rehashing all the missed opportunities and poorly timed words and wasted seconds from their day. It’s the struggle to have “fun” if that fun violates our unspoken moral codes (Thou shalt not be too loud in public. Thou shalt not spend money unnecessarily. Thou shalt not waste time. Thou shalt not buy the cheese dip when the free salsa will do.).
I’m learning that the antidote to my perfectionism is found in two things: spending time with people who are wired differently from me and embracing rest. When I hang out with my of-course-you-get-the-cheese-dip friends (and husband), it gives me permission to have fun and even to confront some of my moral codes that I didn’t realize I had until that moment. I get to ask myself the uncomfortable questions about WHY I internally feel that something is wrong and WHY I’m certain I’m not allowed to ever be wrong. When my friends model their own embracing of mistakes, it helps me to realize the world keeps turning even when someone does something wrong. It allows me to try new things without fearing the repercussions of failure, in whatever form that might take. But I need my friends to recognize that when I say something will not be fun for me, I’m being honest and I don’t need to be pushed to pretend something is fun that isn’t. I need people who will respect my desire to not karaoke or put on a costume for any reason or play charades. Just. . . no. But YES to honesty and vulnerability and fun with people who can remind me that it’s okay to not be perfect.
When I rest, I find that my productivity is not what makes me a person of value. My family actually enjoys me more when I’m well-rested and available than when I’m busy and waging tiny wars of perfectionism on all fronts. Taking good care of myself feels like a small act of rebellion against the voice that tells me I am what I do and what I do must be right and best all the time. God is perfect. God modeled for us a sabbath day of rest. I can rest too. And I don’t have to feel guilty about it.
It’s an ongoing struggle I imagine I’ll be fighting until Jesus silences that voice of perfectionism with his own perfect voice. I hope I can continue to find ways to use these tendencies for good and not let them overwhelm me. And if you have a friend that struggles like this (Hello, Enneagram Ones!), be a safe place for their mistakes. Insist on the cheese dip sometimes. Enjoy who they are and not just what they do. And don’t be fooled by the messy countertop. That too can be perfectionism.