Addicted to perfection?
Cindy on January 27th, 2009
“To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.” – Joseph Chilton Pearce
It’s just a simple garden plaque, but I knew I had to order one as soon as I saw it in a mail-order catalog. Handcrafted from terra cotta, it announces in plain bold letters: EMBRACE IMPERFECTION.
I bought it to hang on a brick wall near the patio. But somehow, it looked out of place with the other ceramic plaques my husband and I had collected from summer art fairs. It was a little too perfect and needed some crafty touches — a few dabs of paint here and there to make it look old and weathered. Never one to argue, my artistic husband gave the plaque a nice patina and hung it where I would see it from the garden room window.
Now that I think about it, I should have ordered several to post all over the house. I’ve battled perfectionism most of my life, and while it has served me well at times, it usually makes me miserable. Sometimes it makes others miserable, too.
Perfectionism is the snarky little gremlin hissing in my ear when the floors are littered with muddy shoes and old newspapers. It tells me I’m a lousy housekeeper and that I shouldn’t even think of entertaining company until everything is spotless. It also likes to remind me that my table settings never look like the ones in Martha Stewart Living, anyway.
Perfectionism is the critical woman looking back at me in the mirror — the woman who thinks I need to lose more weight, or that the shirt I am wearing wasn’t ironed properly. She seems to suggest that I’ll never be as cool as Jamie Lee Curtis or Lauren Hutton.
Perfectionism is the imaginary editor looking over my shoulder while I type. She nags when my sentences are weak, and tells me that I’m not really a writer. If I really slip and misspell a word or dangle a modifier in one of my columns or articles, I brood for hours, convinced that my readers have lost faith in me, and that every English teacher in Oakland County has ripped my offending piece from the paper and waved it in front of her class. My imaginary editor never lets me forget.
“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people,” warns novelist Anne Lamott. “It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life.”
The crazy thing is, I know better. And oddly enough, I’ve always appreciated quirkiness in other people and the things they own. Distressed furniture, thrift-shop finds, overgrown cottage gardens, non-pedigree pets, freckles, and crooked smiles intrigue me. The people whose style I admire tend to be rule-breakers or different drummers. Even the saints were social misfits.
Years ago, on a photo shoot for a travel magazine, I learned that early Mennonite quilters stitched a “humility patch” –- a deliberate mistake — into each of their prized quilts. The patch served to remind the circle of quilters that only God can create a flawless masterpiece. When I can’t seem to get things right, I try to remember those intricately patterned quilts.
Like most card-carrying perfectionists, I began my career as a people-pleaser. As a kid I was told that if you can’t do something exactly right, it’s not worth doing at all. Looking for approval from teachers, I never colored outside the lines. As a teenager, I dressed to please my peers but avoided upsetting my parents. Finally, by the time I reached my forties, I realized the pursuit of perfection was futile, not to mention exhausting.
I know, now, that to embrace imperfection is to let go of the need to be right, or look good, all of the time. It’s never easy. But as Anne Lamott advises, I keep telling myself that messes and mistakes are proof that real life is being lived here. And even when I can’t fully embrace imperfection, as my garden plaque urges, I try, at least, to shake hands with it. — Cindy La Ferle
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Comments (17) 
Columns and essays, Just for writers
January 27th, 2009 at 4:44 pm
I loved this post it so expresses what I try to do on my blog and the kind of life I live.
January 27th, 2009 at 8:34 pm
http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/herrick/disorder.htm
This is a link to “Delight in Disorder” by Robert Herrick – a lovely tribute to imperfection in dress. I think your plaque is lovely, but wouldn’t it be cute if the type in the word “imperfection” diminished in size, as if to suggest an artistic/design error?
January 27th, 2009 at 9:46 pm
Yolanda — I checked out your site and really enjoyed! Thanks for stopping by. And Leslie, you’ve brought back memories with the mention of Herrick’s poem. Glad to hear from you! –CL
January 27th, 2009 at 10:35 pm
I am relieved to learn that I am not the only one dealing with these attributes during this phase of life. I have been introduced to “imperfection” and we’ve met for coffee a few times. We are on a first-name basis, though we still have a lot to learn about each other. I have helped “perfection” pack her bags, which she keeps stored in the garage. She comes and goes, though her stays are shorter and visits less frequent. I’ve made space for “good enough” in the spare bedroom. She seems happy here, and I hope we become good friends.
January 28th, 2009 at 8:15 am
I love, love love your post! This nasty desire for perfection and the carping voices that nag us relentlessly are the shadows of our mothers’ own little, or large demons. Jung referred to them as a woman’s negative animus. Sometimes I think that’s why some woman can be so critical of women who are free of the desire for perfection. That’s a great post. Thanks!!!!
January 28th, 2009 at 9:11 am
I like the way you personify Perfection so you can acknowledge her, face her straight on and respectfully ask her to step aside. I’m working on making friends with Imperfection. She’s definitely moved into my house, but I’m having trouble letting her into my work (paid and upaid) world. Thanks for the inspiration!
January 28th, 2009 at 1:32 pm
Cindy,
You are right on the money, honey, if I do say so myself. Being a recovering perfectionist, I really love the thoughts you’ve conveyed here—as well as the candor with which you share your healing journey. I don’t have a wall plaque like you but I do have two quotes that roll around in my mind on a regular basis. Each reminds me that I never want to fall back into the trap of perfectionism ever again. Perfectionism just about killed me—no kidding. Health issues galore, over the years, from expecting way to much of myself.
The first quote is: “Perfectionism is self-abuse of the highest order.” Sarah Ban Breathnach. Love that one. It gets right to the heart of it. Perfectionism perpetuates being unkind to ourselves. I know that to be true.
The other is “Progress, not perfection.” Not sure about the source on this one, but I love it. It reminds me to continue to treat myself with lovingkindness.
Big hug to you today, dear friend. I admire you so for leading a discussion on such an important topic.
January 28th, 2009 at 2:02 pm
I LOVE this post. It’s a lesson that is so important and so hard to learn!! Thanks for writing it.
January 28th, 2009 at 2:04 pm
Thanks for the cyberhugs and great comments, Jan!
And Pam, I know what you mean about letting perfection control your work (paid or unpaid). It’s a struggle. When we do let go, I think our work is freer, better, more natural. But oh, I know how hard that is!
January 29th, 2009 at 1:09 pm
Well said, Cindy. I struggle with this, too, and I’ve learned a lot from reading everyone’s posts.
January 29th, 2009 at 2:24 pm
As always, love your post!
I just wrote a post about that very thing concerning my exercise regime the other day! As someone once asked me as I procrastinated on some inconsequential something, “Is great getting in the way of good here??” So true.
Some things are worth aiming for perfection on, maybe 2% of the things we THINK should be perfect
RE: exercise…some push ups, lunges and dips at home may not be perfect but it’s head and shoulders above waiting for the ‘perfect’ time that never comes to go to the gym 
January 29th, 2009 at 3:29 pm
Great post! Thanks. Always a good reminder for types like us.
But remember, even Lauren Hutton and Jamie Lee are probably not as cool as you think they are. Or at least, they probably don’t feel as you cool as you imagine they would.
I try to keep in mind that the many images we judge ourselves against (from books and works of art to faces on TV) are usually heavily edited, photoshopped or managed.
January 31st, 2009 at 7:01 pm
Speaking of Lauren Hutton, she’s on the cover of J.Crew’s latest catalog. She’s smiling wide and that space between her two front teeth is there for all to see and celebrate.
When I was much younger I came across a magazine quiz, Are YOU a Perfectionist? I turned the page thinking — I can’t be a perfectionist, because if I were I’d be perfect; I can’t be a perfectionist, because if I were I wouldn’t mess up the way I do.
Realized only later what a perfectly perfectionist reaction that was! Perfection is a huge burden we all deserve to put down.
Great column, Cindy. Thank you. (Love the plaque, too!)
February 3rd, 2009 at 9:56 pm
Wonderful post! It really hit a nerve with me — I consider myself a perfectionist and a procrastinator — they don’t mix, but you do learn to embrace your own quirky personality as you mature (or at least I hope that’s happening . . . )
March 3rd, 2009 at 4:33 pm
I love this essay! Where did you get that plaque? I’ve got to have it!
March 3rd, 2009 at 4:43 pm
Thanks, everyone, for your comments! Like all perfectionists, I revel in praise
Betsy,
I wrote this essay more than 5 years ago (it appears in my book, Writing Home). I ordered it from the Isabella catalog: http://www.isabellacatalog.com/
but am not sure it is still available there. I will do a search and see if I can locate it elsewhere, and post the info here on my blog if I do –
Cindy La Ferle
May 17th, 2009 at 8:37 am
[...] Instead we ought to be reminded that there is no foolproof, one-size-fits-all method of parenting. Motherhood is something we learn as we go along, and we’re bound to fall short from time to time. Meanwhile, I wish we’d all stop comparing ourselves to other moms, including the fictional Donna Reed “role models” embedded in our collective psyche. Parenthood is no place for card-carrying perfectionists. [...]