Perfect.  Without flaws.  An impossible standard, and yet, all my life I’ve been a proud perfectionist, touting it as my weakness at job interviews to evade incrimination.  I never considered that my relentless pursuit of perfection was, in itself, a flaw. 

Perfectionism is typically seen as a positive trait, linked to high standards and achievement.  I grew up in a family of perfectionists.  We knew no other way.  My mother told stories of my grandfather’s perfectionism, describing how meticulously he did his work, taking such pride in it.  Mom followed his example.  I followed hers. 

And I was proud to be a perfectionist.  I used it as a “good weakness” at job interviews because I figured employers like knowing you’ll produce high-quality work.  Like my grandfather and mother before me, I put 150% into the task before me, working meticulously, taking pride in it. 

To be perfect is to be free of flaws, and no man has walked the earth free from imperfections save Jesus Christ, God himself in flesh.  As a Christian aspiring to be more like Christ, being a perfectionist made theological sense, too.  I thought it harmless to set a standard of perfection for every aspect of my life; it meant people could count on me.  Perhaps, I even believed it made others respect me. 

Perfectionism enabled me to accomplish so much.  So, why am I rethinking it now?

Yes, I achieved much, but at what expense?  Can you really put 150% into anything?  Where did that other 50% come from? 

I believe it came from peace of mind.  Perfectionism had put a tax on my brain.  Thirty years striving for the impossible added up.  Give me and a colleague the same task, my goal was simply to do it better; I never weighed the time or energy expended against the required outcome.  I did not know how to leave well enough alone, not willing to disappoint myself by falling short of excellence.  Moreover, I had no work-life balance.

I drove myself a little crazy my whole life doing everything perfectly, from dinner dishes to a 4.0 in grad school. 

The school of thought surrounding mental wellness has shifted since my childhood.  Where perfectionism was encouraged in my youth, educators now understand the link between perfectionism and anxiety and depression.  Particularly in the gifted school setting, I saw how fear of getting something wrong would cause kids to shut down completely.

To encourage risk taking and resilience, it’s important to see the difference between healthy striving for excellence and unattainable perfection.

Now that I have a teenage daughter at home, tasked with doing chores around the house, I’ve had to acknowledge this distinction.  My standards were driving her a little crazy.  Cali is a kid; she’s going to make mistakes.  She’s going to miss a spot.  From chores to homework, those mistakes are how we learn.  I don’t want her to be so afraid to get it wrong that she shuts down completely. 

In the Ramos household, we’re embracing growth and progress rather than fixating on flawless outcomes.  Before Tony would marry me, I had to give up being a perfectionist.  Not to surrender standards of excellence, but to kill the ego behind it. 

You see, my pride in being a perfectionist made me blind to the actual weaknesses I could have supplied as responses in job interviews, like a tendency to get overly emotionally invested in my work.   Admitting to faults would have fractured the misconception I’d worked hard to cultivate: I was pretty perfect on the outside.

What too often accompanies the perfectionist trait is an arrogance quite unlike Christ.  For my views, ways, actions, and beliefs to be wholly right and perfect, I would have to be God.  I am not God, therefore, my imperfections define me in position to my savior.  They signal forward change and growth.

In reality, my unrealistic expectations strained relationships and made it difficult for me to accept flaws in others or admit to them myself.  My husband saw my perfectionism radiating to control all aspects of our home, inhibiting the growth of a healthy partnership, and he called it out for the true weakness it was. 

Now, we aim to live in imperfect harmony.  It’s only been a few months, but this vulnerability protocol has fostered intimacy as I learn to love my new stepdaughter well.  Sometimes, I even leave the house with dirty dishes in the sink, and when we get home, Cali jokes, “See, Mom, the house didn’t burn down.” 

Letting go of unreasonably high standards makes room for grace.

Many thanks to my sister-in-law, Cari, for sharing the photo for this blog post with me today, captioned simply, “Turning leaf.” 

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See you back next week for our third secret to getting broken people (like me) down the aisle.