Perfectionism is a Destroyer of Joy
My name is Brittney and I’m no longer an anonymous perfectionist.
One of the things I hate most about myself is the very thing that drives me to do my best work. It’s also what sends me spiraling down a dark hole of imposter syndrome, self doubt, self deprecation and any other catalog of descriptive jargon that sums up feeling like a failure.
All of my life I have been the most critical of myself. The NFNO podcast has been on a break the last month (er, going on almost two months now) and I’ve been spending some time with family. There’s nothing like returning home and being reminded of all the ways you haven’t amounted to anything. Am I the only one who feels chronic anxiety when back “home” and surrounded with loved ones? It’s as though there is some invisible meter above each of our heads, ranking how we’ve each turned out most successful to most likely to fail. If there’s a middle gauge in that meter, I wouldn’t know what it is because I’ve only ever reached for success and instead keep waiting at the very bottom at girl wtf are you going with your life? I’d like to think that my family doesn't care what I am doing with my life, so long as I’m happy, but if that’s the case, why does everyone begin with what are you doing and rarely ever how?
As we’re nearing the end of the year (sorry to remind everyone, but November is literally around the corner), I am reflecting more on 2022, 2023 and all that I hope to accomplish in 2024. We launched this shop in the beginning of 2022 and as soon as it was launched, it was also… What's the opposite of launch? Unlaunched? ABORT! Yes, that’s it. I aborted this mission and I beat myself up over it every.single.day.
As I’ve had more time to reflect, I realize that I didn’t give up on the business, I gave up on myself. Somewhere, everywhere, the feeling of not being good enough lingers inside me like the taste of some cheap ass coffee that gives me acid reflux. My need for perfectionism in everything I do is the acid reflux inside of me that never allows me to ever just enjoy what I create. I was proud of everything that we launched for the business, but up against other creators' products, I meticulously picked apart everything that I was so in love with of my own work. Every post I wrote was overshadowed with thoughts of bitch, you know Emily Dickinson would NEVER. Every idea I had was immediately harbored away into the shelter of my own preservation. The sad part is, I don’t even know what I’m preserving anymore.
I think I’m just starting to realize that everything I believe others think about me is just my own values projected back at me. When I start to pick this apart I see how fragile this self preservation tactic is and how unnecessary it is to my life. It robs me of so much good in my life. Joy is an acquaintance I hope to one day call friend and it’s not until I get over myself that I’ll be able to let her in. So here goes the first step. I’m posting this entry, after spending less than 10 minutes writing it. I’ll give myself another 10 for edits and then I’m LAUNCHING this post today (Oct 23). If there’s a grammar or spelling error somewhere in the midst of all this, get over it. If I have to, so do you.