Perfectionism has been the director of my inner critic for a very long time. I learned the lesson of “not good enough” early and well. And I have to tell you, her voice is exhausting. I don’t just need to know all the rules, I need to follow them perfectly, all the time , without fail, and I shouldn’t just follow them, I should be the best at following, all the time, without fail. If I do this well enough, people will like me.
See? Exhausting.
I’ve given this perfection narrative varying degrees of power over the course of my life. When I am healthiest and feel the most safe, it’s more of a nagging mutter. But when I am stressed or upset, it drowns out everything else like a drill sergeant telling me, MORE! MORE! MORE! DON’T BE A COWARD/LOSER/QUITTER/DISGRACE/FAILURE.
I’m serious. She’s a real bitch to follow.
Since leaving Christianity, I’ve been better able to tune this voice out to a background hum, but with the onset of burnout, she’s been louder, more insistent, cropping up at the most inconvenient of times, belittling and demanding as ever. The more burned out I felt, the louder she yelled, the more she demanded and because I believed her, I just spun faster and worked harder, which is never sustainable.
Years and years ago, I wise person whose name I don’t remember told me, Sometimes good enough, is good enough, and while I do believe there is a time and a place for excellence, and while I often give the perfectionist narrative more attention than she deserves, I’ve carried that nugget with me ever since. For the last four months, I’ve been applying it with regularity. Figuring where and when to apply it, has been tricky, but also a form of healing.
For instance, a month ago, I started taking a daily walk, and by daily, I mean every single day. I’ve walked in temps well below freezing, in blustery wind, and in rain. I’ve walked in the morning, in the afternoon and well after sunset, in my neighborhood, downtown, on the beach and in parks. There are two rules: the walk has to be outside (no going up and down the stairs 10 times and calling it a walk —that’s exercise, but, for me, not a walk) and it has to be intentional. I can’t look back over my day and say, oh, that trip to the post office counts as my walk. I CAN say, I’m taking a 20 minute walk downtown and while I’m out, stop at the post office. That’s intentional (again, all of this is what makes sense to me, it’s fine if you see it differently).
Most days, I get a nice 20-40 minute walk in. But somedays, I’m walking up and down my street at 9pm, breathing deeply and listening to the owls hoot and the foxes screech. Some days I stop and lay myself on the ground and watch the moon float over head before I take another lap. Sometimes I make myself a promise that if I get to X point, I can turn around if I still really don’t want to do this - but most of the time, once I’m out in the fresh air breathing and walking, I’m happy to keep going.
I don’t take my phone or a pedometer or a watch. I go at whatever pace feels good that day and for as long as I want to, or as long as I have time for. I’m not walking further or faster each day, none of that matters. Most weekend days I walk farther because I have more time, and I also usually go a little slower, because there is so much to observe and think about. Some days good enough is good enough. I moved my body; I got fresh air; I let my mind wander wherever it wanted. If I observe the two rules, everything counts.
When I believe that everything counts, I’m free to choose if good enough is good enough, or if something deserves my best work. Because the fact is, not everything I do can have the same level of my attention and effort. There’s simply too much. I’m sure that’s the same for everyone reading this. The demands on our lives outweigh our capacity to deliver our best at everything all the time. And honestly, I think it’s a capitalist lie that we owe that level of effort to everything we touch. For many, many things, good enough is quite good enough. Not perfect? That’s ok, because everything counts.
Everything counts is the perfect counterpoint to the perfectionist narrative. My choices, my effort, my priorities, it all counts. Everything counts, not just the things I did well, or perfectly or better than everyone else. Not just the things that receive notice, or applause, or approval. Everything.
This applies not only to productive activities, it applies to naps, or day dreaming. It applies to saying no and choosing to walk away. It applies to deciding good enough is the very best I can give on any given day and coming home, walking once around the block and climbing in the bed to have ice cream for dinner (which happened this week). It counts. Everything counts. These aren’t wasted days or opportunities. They are conscious choices made to protect my mental, physical and emotional well-being.
The perfectionist in me dies a little every time I accept that good enough can be good enough and less than perfect counts. I say good. Maybe one days she’ll disappear entirely. There’s better narratives to fill my life than hers.
I used to say “everything matters,” but I really like “everything counts” much better. I loved reading this.