My mum is one of those rare people who are good at everything. She has high standards and she delivers. Unsurprisingly, she raised me to be a perfectionist, with the firm belief that I need to be the best at whatever I do – “If you can’t do your best, then why do it at all?”
This principle has served me well(ish). It has propelled me forward and helped me achieve various milestones. Living a story I could be proud of. I’ve done okay.
However, the journey has been peppered with more anxiety than triumph.
I applied the high standards and ‘doing my best at all times’ to my therapeutic practice too – the sacred work I hold so dear. And I burned out – Quickly so.
When I was first encouraged to find contentment in being “good enough”, it seemed foreign, as if I were being asked to betray my own principles and every fibre in my body fought the message. It came from none other than my supervisor – an experienced mentor who was supposed to be great at this job – my job. As I passionately argued against this blasphemy, I couldn’t help but wonder how aiming at being good enough and finding balance between pursuing excellence and accepting imperfection would feel. Would it help? Would it perhaps quieten the nagging voice which kept reminding me how I was, essentially, never good enough?
The more I sat with it, the more I saw the necessity and inevitability and of this gentleness and reasonableness – at least if I wanted to change my equation of achievement and anxiety.
Then came parenthood – the role I cherished more than anything. With my background in childhood trauma, spiralling into worry was easy. The smallest of things would make me worry about the long term psychological impacts it would have on my child and how I was failing them as a mother. I was constantly, relentlessly, pushing myself to do more and do better, no matter how sleep deprived and exhausted I was. This showed up as perpetual overwhelm because, obviously, nothing felt enough. This little person deserved the world and my mortal self was failing. Failing to give them the love, security, attention, opportunities, independence and gazillion other things I was obliged to provide them, all of which felt so essential and non-negotiable.
But I also knew that most of all, they needed a healthy and happy mother. And this much pressure wasn’t allowing me to be that. I found refuge in reminding myself to be a “good enough” parent – for truly, that’s the most that anyone can hope to be. While this too is a task not always easy to achieve, it is definitely more forgiving and compassionate than ‘striving to be the best at all times. This little message, coupled with showers of compassion and a little humour in remembering that my kids could do worse :p are helping me manage the mirage of perfectionism.
The permission to be imperfect and just “good enough” has been the greatest gift I’ve given to myself as a parent. Of course, I still struggle with perfectionism. It’s hard to unlearn those deeply ingrained beliefs, and anxiety likes to pop up from time to time. But I do keep coming back to the reminder – Being good enough, is indeed, good enough.
To meet with a professional psychologist or counsellor, call The Other Clinic at 8809 0659 or email us hello@theotherclinic.sg.