Against Perfectionism Or How to Enjoy Being a Fuck Up

Perfectionism is a disease among my patients. People’s inner dialogues these days are unrelenting. The oddity of this all is that the more perfect someone might seem on the outside, often times the more broken they are on the inside. (Of course, this isn’t everyone by any means). It takes a ceaseless, judging superego to maintain the veneer of perfection to the outside world, and any sort of crack in the crevices of one’s soul proves that one is messing up.

I ask myself often: why are so many suffering from this perfectionism? There is no doubt that perfectionism is a defense, but a defense against what? Well like a lot of defenses, perfectionism begins in childhood. Even supposed good parents are not immune to pushing their children to achievements and praising someone for what they do. Even the statement, “I want you to be happy” is an imperfect one to say to a child. You might say I’m picking nits here, how can saying you want your child to be happy be imperfect parenting? It’s simple, saying you want your child to be happy, implies that if a child doesn’t feel happy, then there are doing something wrong. Subtleties like this can lead to a more judging mind. I suggest an alternative: telling a child that it’s ok to feel whatever they feel, allowing them to express who they are, and then going from there.