Perfectionism is the Thief of Joy, Collar Him!
The Second Lesson I’m Bringing into 33
“Never do tomorrow what can be done today. Procrastination is the thief of time, collar him!”
This quote became one of my favorites when I first read David Copperfield by Charles Dickens at the age of 14. Almost 20 years later, I’m realizing that I’ve not only loved this quote, but I’ve also lived by it. If a task can be done now, I will do my utmost to complete it now. If work requires an extra hour, I’ll just do it, even if it’s out of hours. In all things work and productivity, this has been my mantra- any spare or extra time quickly gets filled by things I believe I could use the time to achieve. And yet, the work never feels done. And if it is done, it rarely gives me satisfaction at task completion, because I can see anywhere from 2 to 20 ways I could have done it better.
The goal posts initially are labeled as done. But as soon as I think I’ve scored, the goal posts shift to include all I could improve, or to include three more things I could potentially do to “properly” be done.
In a hilariously delayed bout of self-awareness, I’ve learned this is perfectionism, and now I’m committed to laying it down.
Perfectionism Imperfectly Defined
In the space of one week, a new friend and an over-a-decade-long friend both casually referred to me as a perfectionist. They said it in a way that made it clear they assumed I already knew it about myself. Even as I hashed out my recent realization with my sister she said with a playful side-eye and a stifled laugh, “oh, you didn’t know that? I don’t know how you don’t know that about yourself…” Apparently, it’s been crystal clear to everyone but me.
My response to allegations of perfectionism has always been, “Me? I don’t really relate to that term at all… I’m just conscientious.” Now, “conscientious” is a word teachers have used to describe me as early as 12 years-old. I even received a gag gift as a teen, a door hanger that read, “I know I’m efficient, tell me I’m beautiful.” I could unpack worlds of meaning in that gift, but for now, I’m simply highlighting that my work ethic has been an affirmed central part of my personality for a long time.
And, to me, this isn’t perfectionism. To me, perfectionists are “type a,” anal, uptight people who surveil everyone and everything anyone does, mostly themselves, to create something impossibly perfect. Perfectionists are “clean freaks” who live in pristine houses, have a system for every task, and like minimalist living because they love “clean lines.” More than this, to me, perfectionists are… well, perfect.
Contrastingly, my work is never pristine orwithout errors. My home can be tidy and look as chaotic as a move-in day. I don’t love clean lines or minimalism; I like vintage clothes and antique finds that others might find gaudy or impossible to get clean. And no matter how conscientious I am, I could never be a perfectionist, because I never ever ACTUALLY achieve perfection.
Correctly Naming Perfectionism
Yes, I hear it. I finally hear the irony in this definition. In my opinion, I can’t be a perfectionist because no matter how hard I try, I never achieve it, while others seem to.
That’s the lived definition of perfectionism
That there is a standard that my efforts can never meet.
That other people are achieving that standard I can’t seem to meet.
This hasn’t felt like perfectionism to me, just a fact I’ve never questioned.
Until now.
I’m sharing this lesson because I believe countless people struggle with this and don’t even realize it because it’s so thoroughly integrated into your sense of self that you can’t see the forest for the trees. But our blindness to its presence in our hearts and minds is robbing us of the joy that it is to be a person who is allowed to grow and change. It deprives us of the love offered by God and by others, because we’re too focused on whether we are worthy of it.
For people of faith, perfectionism distorts sanctification, turning it into the process by which we finally become worthy of God’s love and Jesus’ sacrifice. Which, in case you haven’t guessed, is not the true definition of sanctification, or what this Christian life is about at all. That belief robs us of the joy of our salvation, leaving us to a version of the abundant life that looks closer to the crushing plight of Sisyphus.
It is the thief of joy.
Living Free
So, as Mr. Micawber said of procrastination and time, let me say of perfectionism and joy:
Perfectionism is the thief of joy, collar him!
Undoing a lifetime of living this way is going to take time, but the only way to get free is by getting free! So, for me, that looks like allowing myself to try new things and ways of doing things, allowing myself to start before I’m “really good” at things, and beginning to speak up in arenas where I usually stay silent, hoping to perfect my opinion and knowledge to have the perfect answer. This looks like saying, “I don’t know” more often, and allowing myself and others to simply be, without consistently evaluating my never-ending “progress.” It looks like living life to the full, rather than hemming it in to the things I feel I’m “good enough” to have or do.
I hope you choose to live free of the voice that tells you you’re not doing it right or that you’re not enough.
This is a very new lesson that I’m bringing into 33, and I want to close by encouraging you to think about how this might show up for you. You, too, may be defining perfectionism in a way that obfuscates how it shows up in you. A good question to ask yourself is: Do I allow myself to get wind from my wins? Or do I simply move on to the next thing I need to achieve, filled with the same fear and anxiety over my capabilities?
If you’re further along in this journey, or starting out like me, I’d love to hear what collaring perfectionism has looked like for you, so please share in the comments!
Procrastination is the thief of joy; life will be sweeter when you begin to collar him.