You know, it’s funny. I expected to be an anxious mess as I made the weird journey back to “normal” (whatever that word even means anymore), putting my life back together one piece at a time. And parts of it have sent me spiraling, especially being thrown the curveball that is delta. But mostly, aside from a few nerve-wracking “firsts” and some decision-making in uncertainty, I’ve been fine.
What I did not expect, however, was how much this would send me back into my perfectionist tendencies.
I think I’ve done more stupid, clumsy, and forgetful things in the past couple months than I have all year. I’m spilling pasta all over the stove trying to drain it. I’m whacking my elbows on door frames. I’m late to everything, I’m forgetting things right and left, and I’m accidentally wearing a friend’s shoes home from a wedding instead of my own (that one may have been because of that extra glass of champagne, but I digress).
I’m also struggling with motivation to work or knock out my to-do list of chores and having a hard time focusing on any of it.
And in a move to combat all of this and swing myself back to equilibrium, my perfectionism is coming up to bat hard.
I’m checking my calendar 9 times an hour to make sure I don’t miss a meeting. I’m making meticulously detailed lists of things to remember and forcing myself to do them as quickly as I can so that they don’t slip my mind.
I’m afraid to close browser tabs for fear of losing information or forgetting what I’m working on. I’m obsessive about keeping my apartment sparkling clean. I’m worried that people are judging me.
In other words, I’m being hard on myself for not being perfect.
At the height of the pandemic, there was a flurry of stories in the media proclaiming that we don’t have to be perfect; that we should cut ourselves slack on being productive and forgive ourselves for having a hard time. We had never faced a crisis like this before, and it was okay to give yourself some grace.
But does anyone else feel like, now that we really have made some progress and many are moving on with their lives as best they can, that narrative is gone, and there’s an unspoken expectation to be fully productive and on top of things all the time?
Well, the narrative may be gone from the mainstream, but I’m making an effort to remind myself daily: You still don’t have to be perfect.
Perfectionism is an ever-pervasive issue and, if you’re like me, it may be something you always carry with you. But you do not need permission to be gentle with yourself and let go—especially as we’re all still facing perpetual uncertainty and processing tremendous loss, pain, and just plain weirdness.
I had a moment the other day as I was on my first morning commute to an office in a year and a half: With some of my old favorite songs blasting in my AirPods, I tapped my Clipper Card, found my place on the train, and held onto the handle watching West Oakland fly by, all as if by muscle memory. And I was transported right back to my old, pre-2020 life.
But then all the music that I’ve discovered in the past 18 months started playing, and it hit me how much my life—and I—have grown for the better since then, and how much change I’m still processing.
I’m more confident in myself than I used to be, I’ve made it through some excruciatingly difficult times, and I’ve made positive changes in all the areas of my life that weren’t working for me.
No wonder my mind is all over the place.
So forget being perfect in daily interactions, never forgetting to do a single thing, or getting through every day with full productivity and ease. You’re doing your best, and what matters is slow and steady progress toward a life that makes you feel good.
Focus on living from a place of love and contentment. You still don’t have to be perfect.