I Finally Accepted Nothing Can Be Perfect

This article originally appeared on VICE Belgium.

I have no excuses left. I’ve organised my notes, tidied up my desk, made coffee. Now I really need to start working on this piece. To be honest, I don’t really want to – the idea is sort of appealing in theory, but a lot less fun in practice. When I pitched my personal story to my editor, I didn’t realise how much I’d be laying myself bare. Turns out admitting these kinds of weaknesses to the internet is pretty hard.

For the past 30 years, I conceived perfectionism more as a cop-out answer I’d give a recruiter during a job interview than a mindset that was ruining my life. Until finally, things clicked. I realised I’d lived my whole life in a parallel world where I always deliver top-notch results without going through a learning curve; one where my body has no limits and I’m able to focus nonstop.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve been terrified by the idea of disappointing people. My solution to that anxiety was to be flawless – and more often than not, it worked. From preschool through to my master’s, I was always first in class – gifted, conscientious, willing and able. But obviously, I’m not a genius. Sometimes, I’d bring home a nine out of ten grade and my parents would ask me where the other point had gone. I was always ashamed I’d disappointed them, and I never really knew what to say.

Of course, the explanation was simple: I’d made a mistake. But for a perfectionist, that’s a very dangerous thought, which can trigger a chain of abusive self-talk. After all, that mistake was so dumb, I should’ve known better. I should have listened more, studied more, focused better.

On the flipside, when I managed to get a perfect score, the high was incredible. I felt so good about it that I spent most of my school life chasing it. “See what you can do when you put your mind to it?” my parents would say.

“Perfectionism isn’t so much a quest for excellence as it is one for the unattainable,” says perfectionism coach Yasmina Hajoui. It’s a conviction that we can always do better, and therefore, we can’t be satisfied with something that could have been better.

“In perfectionism, we tend to believe that only our accomplishments define us. It’s a trap!” Hajoui warns. “Underneath this conviction, there usually are issues with self-esteem. Perfectionists feel they’re not worthy of love.” And if love is not possible, we look for the next best thing: approval. But the issue with this transactional dynamic is you end up completely rejecting your own personality, because you see it as inadequate.

“Perfectionism is a survival mechanism. Deep down, what we’re afraid of is being excluded,” Hajoui continues. “As human beings, our survival instinct is to attach ourselves to a group, and if we feel like we can’t do that we panic. So we have this omnipresent need for external validation. We need to be sure we’ll meet others’ expectations, whether they’re real or projected.”

What hides behind my perfectionism is the illusion of control, the idea that if I work hard, do my best, I’ll be perfect and protected. But, by extension, if something isn’t perfect, that means it’s my fault and that I’m awful. Everyone is allowed to make mistakes, except me; everything is a competition, and anything I can’t win is a dead loss.

The problem is perfectionism not only causes stress, it can even make you physically sick with headaches, stomachaches, muscle cramps and so on. In some cases, it leads to self-destructive behaviour, which can manifest as eating disorders, self-harm and addiction.

The other dark side of perfectionism is that you become incapable of truly appreciating your successes – you only have eyes for what you could’ve done better. Although I have always had a good track record in school and in my career, I didn’t really excel at either because I didn’t take any risks. I was paralysed by the thought of throwing myself into any big-scale project or new hobby. It was easier to abandon the idea than risk being bad. Why expose myself to the criticism?

It genuinely never occurred to me to pursue something just for fun, without trying to excel. Sure, people always said things like, “Do your best, appreciate the process, learn from your mistakes” – but wasn’t that all loser talk?

Fear of failure is typical of perfectionists, Hajoui says: “That’s the irony of perfectionism – it ends up making you unable to do anything.” That certainly resonates with me. Often, I find myself procrastinating because I’m afraid of starting something or making a choice, and end up not doing anything at all.

“In coaching, we try to reconnect people with what we call their ‘free child’,” Hajoui says. “In our earliest years, we look at the world with total openness. We explore everything around us without mental blocks or worries.”

Perfectionism appears when children learn to adapt to their environment, particularly if it is rigid and obsessed with performance. This is very common in immigrant families, for instance, as parents try to instil in their children the value of proving yourself as a way to survive racial discrimination. “Little by little, the free child gets swallowed up by the rational, good child – the one who conforms to the expectations of adults and people around him,” Hajoui says.

Despite their best intentions, my parents were passing on their own trauma to me. My mother had been raised in a large, poor family, where there was no time nor space for anything but productivity and success. My father, born in Algeria during the independence war, did his best to leave behind a miserable, fearful existence in favour of new opportunities in Belgium, at a time when the country wasn’t quite ready to hire an accountant named Mohammed.

Our capitalist, individualist society convinces us that we’re all in competition with one another. We compare ourselves to others, judging our actions and appraising our relative value. We consider constant growth the norm and accept that people who can’t keep pace might develop burnout or depression. So perfectionism is truly a social problem – culturally, we’re obsessed with perfection, and as individuals, we feel the need to fit in. Knowing that makes me feel less alone.

“In all the chaos of the world, we forget we have a choice, we don’t have to impose all these cultural and social norms on ourselves,” Hajoui says. “But our fears often keep us from making choices that could be beneficial to us. It’s up to us to establish our own limits.”

Before I came to terms with my perfectionism, I often found it difficult to know when I’d taken on too much. As long as I could achieve my goals, I felt I couldn’t afford to take my foot off the gas. I thought someone would sound the alarm for me if things got bad enough.

In reality, of course, no one can help you like you can help yourself. I began therapy in 2020, after experiencing depression and anxiety and spent a lot of time uncovering childhood trauma. I thought I was recovering well, but about a year later, I started experiencing burnout symptoms.

Before then, I’d never understood what people meant when they said they couldn’t get out of bed. But suddenly, my body was telling me to stop. Just thinking about emptying the dishwasher would make me burst into sobs and leaving the apartment caused panic attacks. Suddenly immobilised, I was forced to face reality head-on: I’d hit rock bottom and something had to change.

It took about three months of doing nothing for me to be OK again, and three more months of seeking targeted guidance. In therapy, I realised my perfectionism, which I had always worn as a badge of honour and relied on to keep going, was actually toxic to me. This terrified me at first, it made me question my whole value system. But eventually, I realised perfectionism is not “who I am”, it’s just something that affects me.

Naming my habits and defining them as something that’s not the core of my identity allowed me to take some distance from them. Slowly, I was forced to learn to accept my imperfections, come to terms with my abilities, learn from my mistakes, try to do better next time – that “loser talk” was ultimately pretty healthy.

These realisations freed me: They allowed me to move forward, take a leap without a net, admit defeat, laugh and cry about it. To follow my instincts, ignore the torturing voice that told me I should’ve done better, that I suck and everyone knows it. To see every flaw, big or small, as a sign of my humanity, my vulnerability. To see my failings as learning opportunities, rather than fatal pitfalls.

“Of course, we have a capacity for self-criticism – but also for forgiveness,” Hajoui says. In this new state of mind, the free child is “able to reclaim her rightful place,” she adds, smiling. And the best part is, this healing revolves around the idea of having fun. “It’s also extremely important to centre your own enjoyment,” Hajoui says. “What gives you energy? What do you like to do? Not all activities need to be about performance and expectations.”

I also now recognise that perfectionism has allowed me to accomplish a lot and become who I am today. “To see perfectionism as uniquely negative is actually to deny a part of yourself,” Hajoui says. There’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting to do things well, but that desire needs to be balanced and come from a healthy place.

Ultimately, perfection would be cool, but imperfections are what we have. So go ahead and take up boxing even if you can’t go every day, and take a chance on loving someone, even if certain aspects of their personality bother you.

“The key is to envision the future in a realistic way,” Hajoui concludes. “By learning to love and accept ourselves, by focusing on our strengths and virtues, we gain enough self-confidence that we can be flexible even if we hit a wall. We can pick ourselves up again, and heal our wounds.”