The Fairy Tale of Perfectionism
It goes by many names, actually. The Curse of the Gifted Child. The Dirge of the Ne’er-Do-Wronger. Trophy Kid’s Paradoxically Sad Existence. In a results-driven society, naturally, if we want the best for ourselves, we do what is asked of us. Taking that sentiment to the extreme, these characters are trapped in what I call the fairy tale of perfectionism.
Once upon a time, there was a Child who lived in an unstable world. The rulers of the world, the parents, gave and took like gods out of myth. The stakes? All things necessary for survival: food to feed the body, security to preserve the mind, and love to nurture the soul.
The Child, in order to survive this environment, had recognized a pattern: should the Child keep their behavior in check, their grades high, and the negative emotions hidden, the gods granted peace and prosperity. Should the Child err, a chilling wind blew over the land, rendering it inhospitable. It felt like a tightrope act with no net, for beside these gods, no help would come. And the Child got really good at walking the tightrope. They saw so many of their friends who fell off the narrow track, and thought, “Well at least I’m still going.” In fact, as children are apt to do, they internalized the moral of the Fairy Tale of Perfectionism: I only matter when I am not a burden.
Fast forward to the Child’s adulthood; they are now gainfully employed and seems to have everything they need to thrive. But something is amiss in the adult Child. It seems whenever something tiny goes “wrong” the adult Child collapses. They stop eating, sleeping, and taking care of their fitness and hygiene. Social functions no longer seem enjoyable. Work and life become a total slog. Worse still, a ferocious buzzing is omnipresent, the mantra gnawing into their head: “Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. If I can’t get it just right, it’s not worth the risk. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Anything less earns me punishment. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Well why even try if I’ll fail anyway? Perfect. Perfect. Perfect…”
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Fairy Tales are good at what they do. They are unambiguous and they give cogent moral direction. This works particularly well for children since they are biologically incapable of abstract reasoning until their brain development kicks in. Fairy Tales can even be helpful to adults. When we are strapped for resources, our mental bandwidth shrinks. We have to make decisions somehow, so we fall back on simpler, more familiar programming. Think of grocery shopping with a time limit of 15 minutes as opposed to the usual hour. You’d be less likely to try new things, probably go with the tried and true. This holds consistent with complicated decision-making like love and career. No one wants to reinvent what has been seemingly working unless they have to.
For instance, the Brothers Grimm compiled a bunch of terrifying Fairy Tales to scare children into behaving a certain way. For instance, “Little Red Cap” (or Little Red Riding Hood) is often told to dissuade children from talking to strangers. The moral of the story is black and white - open the door and you are in danger; kill the beast and you are saved. The same can apply if you have to avoid an attacker or play smart at night walking through the city streets.
In contrast, consider “I Know Things Now,” where Little Red from Sondheim’s Into the Woods sings about a carnal encounter that was not quite consensual but enjoyable nonetheless. Instead of the conclusion “don’t talk to strangers,” there is nuance. Seemingly contradictory concepts like desire vs. danger and autonomy vs. coercion co-exist. She concludes that “nice is different than good,” a new dichotomization of two reductive synonyms we teach kids. Out of black and white, gray is born. Marvelous, confusing, terrifying gray.
Now, if only one can inject some nuance into the fairy tale of Perfectionism: it’s okay to just be okay. Perfection and failure can and do co-exist. But here’s the kicker: you can’t think your way out of perfectionism. This gets back to the blog post about phenomenology I posted earlier. To someone who only has ever used a hammer, everything looks like a nail. So too is the worldview of perfectionism. It is almost as if by mental reflex that the mind’s eye turns from the act of finding a flaw (hammer) into a disintegration of all good will (nail). This can be as subtle as a twitch of the eyebrow from a romantic partner. The subsequent collapse of self-worth is like gravity pulling down a rock.
I believe there are so many different perspectives as to why perfectionism is as unshakeable as it is. First, biology plays a role. We humans use our gut feelings as a part of our decision making process. Now, in perfectionism land, all things that are perceived as flawed are nothing. And so, after decades of seeing the world that way, our own body starts to quiver at the anticipation of imperfection. Many people call it anxiety or shutting down or fear or frustration. In biological terms, it’s the sympathetic nervous system activating. Our body is gearing up to either fight, run, freeze, or fawn our way out of a situation.
Second, psychology plays a role. At baseline, our sense of self hates being shaken. What our automatic thoughts try to do is protect a coherent narrative we are trying to enact. Specifically, perfectionism is such a simple way of thinking due to its black-and-white nature. How straightforward it is to have only two outcomes to pick from, one of which is nigh impossible to obtain.
And third, society plays a huge role. In our capitalist society, the dichotomy of net positive and net negative is drilled into our eyes, which is an apt parallel to the choice of perfect vs. imperfect. In fact, due to the priority on extravagance, only the “perfect” products and services are “successful.” Furthermore, we as consumers are constantly pandered to as being imperfect to get us to buy more things.
The summative negative effect of biology, psychology, and sociology is in isolating the perfectionist individual. In fight-or-flight mode, humans tend to avoid socialization: high levels of sympathetic activation leads to paranoia and loss of trust in others. Psychologically, the extreme thought process is ostracizing. Societally, competition promotes secrecy and dissuades people from banding together to help each other.
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From this encapsulation of the negative effect of perfectionism, it’s important to reiterate that you cannot think your way out of this. It’s about doing your way out of this. Learning is a behavioral process. Does one learn science better from doing problems in a book or going to the lab to observe first hand? As such, to become an anti-perfectionist, one must actively practice being so. One must do so against every instinctual thought and negative bodily sensation. This is why having a coach (therapist) is important for improving form, posing exercises, and re-examining thought processes. This is why medication is important to relax the body’s blaring anxiety on top of anxiety of trying a new thing. Most of all, having significant people in one’s life to provide honest feedback is necessary for a “reality check” every now and then.
I see anti-perfectionism as a good segue into a future blog topic, mindfulness. In a nutshell, the mind’s eye is turned toward the process of simply existing. As opposed to judging what is “good” or “bad,” there is an emphasis placed on a neutral stance for examining the present moment.
