Perfectionism: striving for ALL or nothing at all

— The Gift from my mother

For the past few months, I have been working on setting up this blog and curating it to perfection. I wanted it to represent so much of who I am—something deep, but not too personal; a space where I could express different sides of myself without oversharing. There was a point when I considered scrapping the idea entirely because I felt overwhelmed. I wanted too much from something that was supposed to be an authentic reflection of myself. Then, one night while driving, I had a thought: if this blog is meant to be a super-authentic version of myself in website form, why does it have to be so perfect? Why was I stressing over something that ultimately doesn’t matter? It’s supposed to be something I enjoy—a hobby that I’m comfortable sharing. I realized that when I decided to make this blog public for my friends to see, they would be reading things about me that they didn’t know, imperfections included. So why should this blog have to be perfect? This thought led me to the first topic of my essay: why does everything have to be so perfect? What’s this urgent need to control every little thing?

   As I pondered this, I began to think about all the circles in my life, every problem I’ve encountered repeatedly, every recurring argument my boyfriend and I have ever gotten into, every time I’ve ever felt disappointed, and, overall, just the recurring negative themes. Ultimately, everything boiled down to one thought that wouldn’t leave me: inadvertently, everything I do is a plea to please someone—perhaps everyone. Maybe if one person notices my effort, or if everyone acknowledges it, then I’ll finally feel good enough. I know that sounds depressing, but I feel like it’s reality. Perhaps not everyone feels the overwhelming urge to please others, but we all know the struggle of wanting to be good enough. I like to think that at some point, we’ve all felt the sting of failure, which leaves a stain (whether long-lasting or not) that contributes to our feelings of inadequacy. Maybe this is why so many of us engage in arguments just to maintain that feeling of being right, why we avoid admitting when we’re wrong, or why we take things too seriously and allow ourselves to be taken advantage of, and the list goes on.

 Unfortunately, that can’t be the only lone explanation for this perfectionism. This bit

is definitely a bit more personal, but I’ve always had this thought: for me, everyone is like her. I notice this in recurring themes at work. I’ll notice it oddly enough when one of my coworkers does something or reacts in a way that reminds me of her; what she acted like when I was a kid growing up and she was still this cool girl in her 20s, when I find every way to connect so many things to her, when every problem that I have, I think of her, I think of: ‘if she’s gone through something like this before’, I think of what her life was like when I was a kid (or even when she was a kid) or how I’m about to be 24 and have so many moments where I think my life is hard and then i compare it to hers— she had two kids at 24, and now she’s in her 40s and successful, so maybe it’s not all that bad. Maybe all my problems are minuscule, maybe I’m exaggerating. But then I realize it’s not just her. It’s all of them, my entire family; the feeling of it being all of them doesn’t last for long, though, it always ties back to her alone, because if they did her right, maybe she would’ve done right by me. Perhaps things would be different. Maybe I wouldn’t be constantly seek validation, maybe there wouldn’t be this small piece of me writing in a blog hopes that she reads it and sees that I see all the many parts of me that are just fragments of her: my anxiety, the reason I’m a workaholic, some of the ways I look at things in the world, the way I view my body, the reason I have such deep empathy for others—the reason that even through everything we’ve ever gone through, and our paradoxical dysfunctional relationship I know somewhere she understands me completely and loves me wholeheartedly.

    Every time I am the girl with the all-or-nothing mentality, it’s still just a small child or a teenager, striving for perfection for her mother. It’s that urge to control everything and make sure it all works out perfectly, and maybe then she will listen, and then [everybody] might fully understand me. I won’t be this ‘ungrateful, angry’ daughter anymore. Maybe then I can fulfill her dreams.

An essay for my mommy. The inspiration behind the name of this blog. (Favourite Daughter by Lorde)