It hit me in a fresh way recently: I’m different than I was a year ago.
Yeah, you might think, we all are. A year older, at the very least—and in my case, more wrinkly, more gray, and slightly squishier.
But I’m noticing a shift in myself that I didn’t actually think was possible, even a year ago. There’s a deeper sense of grounding, a connectedness to and confidence in who I am and who I am becoming. I’m even learning to speak to my body with kindness, which for me is nothing short of miraculous!
Instead of believing I need to be perfect to be loved, I’m learning to love my imperfect self.
I keep asking myself, is this for real? There’s a part of me that wonders if it will stick—I can’t tell if I’m actually different, or if it’s just a good week, a lighter month, or an easier season.
Truth be told, it’s not that insecurity has disappeared or anxiety doesn’t surface anymore. (Just ask Corey. He sees it all, blessed man.) Now I know that the things I struggle with are part of my story, but they aren’t who I am. It’s settling deeper and deeper into my bones: I don’t have to be perfect to be loved—and neither do you.
How to break free from perfectionism
I’ve been racking my brain, trying to retrace my steps to remember how I got here. What are the steps to breaking free from perfectionism?!
Someone asked me that exact question recently. I panicked inside a little, feeling like I should be able to spout off a clear and simple answer. After all, I openly call myself a recovering perfectionist. Helping women break free from the trap of unrealistically high expectations is literally part of my mission in life!
I said words about wishing there was a checklist for the inner work required, but inside, I was floundering. How does someone “get over” the pressure they feel to do all things well?
I know freedom is possible—I’m living proof. But how did I get here?
The more I’ve wrestled with this question, I’ve realized that there isn’t a formula. (This is hard news for perfectionists—we want a step by step process to follow, even if it’s difficult!)
The truth is, breaking free from perfectionism requires courage and vulnerability. Freedom grows slowly through relationships with people who will help you practice receiving their love, even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.
For me, it hasn’t been a linear path. But if I were to sit down with my younger self to help her navigate the journey toward healing, here are a few places I might encourage her to start (and a couple questions to ask):
1. Recognize the roots of perfectionism.
In my life, perfectionism developed as a way to protect myself from people thinking about me the same way I thought about me—as someone who wasn’t ever good enough. If I could work harder and perform better than anyone else in the room, I thought I could avoid the rejection I feared was one mistake away. It gave me a sense of control over the way others experienced me, and a false sense of security in my identity as a high performer.
When in your life did you first feel the need or pressure to be perfect? What were the messages you heard or believed about your performance?
2. Name the fear.
As my patterns of perfectionism leaked into every area of my life, it became hard to imagine myself without what Brené Brown calls a “20-ton shield that we carry around hoping that it will keep us from being hurt.” The truth was, I felt afraid of being criticized, afraid of disappointing people, and afraid no one would want me around if I didn’t find ways to add value to their lives.
What is the story you tell yourself about why you need to be “perfect” (aka, the way you expect yourself to be)? What do you worry will happen if you’re not?
3. Say it out loud.
It wasn’t until I hit my thirties that I really started allowing myself to be deeply known. As a new mom, I’d unconsciously created a picture in my mind of how I expected my life to look while staying home with my babies. My barely-surviving, unproductive, lonely days were far from the ideal I’d imagined, and I felt like a constant failure. Once I admitted to a new group of mom friends how much I was struggling, something loosened in me. Their empathetic, validating responses melted the shame I carried and helped reset my expectations for myself.
What are the unspoken expectations that you have for yourself? Who can you share these with, even when it feels vulnerable? (And how do you need them to respond?)
4. Let yourself be loved.
I never realized how difficult it was for me to receive help and support from others until I had nothing left to give. During a season of debilitating depression, I was crippled by shame over my inability to function normally. But Corey and my friends showed up for me in ways I couldn’t reciprocate. It was painfully uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of such one-sided care, but they allowed me to experience what I struggled to believe: I am worthy of love, even when I can’t do a thing to earn it.
How does it feel when someone shows you extravagant care? What parts of you resist receiving love from others?
5. Keep practicing.
I’ll never forget the day my spiritual director asked me, “What would it look like for you to practice gentleness toward yourself right now?” Tears burned my eyes as I realized: I didn’t know I was allowed to be gentle with myself. I started paying attention to the compassionate words of others toward me, borrowing their kindness to help develop new internal scripts that I could repeat to myself. Slowly, the practice started paying off. A lifetime of perfectionism takes time to unlearn, but it’s worth the effort.
What would it look like for you to practice gentleness toward yourself right now? What words can you repeat on days when you’re struggling?
More than anything else, I would tell my younger self the same thing I’d say to anyone who feels pressure to do all things well:
You’re already worthy of love, just as you are. You don’t have to do a thing.
Hope Farmer says
So good! Thank you for sharing your process!
Tonieka Kokjer says
Jillian you are a true inspiration. You have helped me see somethings in me that make me uniquely me. Thank you