Taking a Break from Being Perfect
I'm taking a break from being perfect.
That sounds like a pretty egotistical thing to say! But, in fact, it's a radically humbling thing to consider. And potentially a huge relief...
Being “perfect" looks different for everyone, but we all feel the pressure to be our own version of it. Here's mine:
Make sure everyone around me, especially my family, is okay.
Make sure my surroundings are safe, clean, orderly.
Make profound statements that cut to the core of every situation.
Make a global impact with my work Find a non-fake connection to the Source of Life / God and share it with the world.
There's more, but you get the idea.
Obviously, these aren't bad things. Even as I type this list I’m thinking, "These are great things to aspire to, why are you even writing this article??"
But I believe there is something important here for me, and maybe for you as well:
When I think about taking a break from being perfect, I feel a flood of relief — I'm tired of carrying that weight.
That flood of relief is immediately followed by a wave of fear.
What is this fear? Why is taking a break from being perfect such a scary thought?
When I really look at it, “being perfect" is essentially a title for my ideal version of myself.
Look at my Instagram account, my website, even this newsletter... what traits do they convey to you about me? Now look at my list.
I pride myself on not playing the social media game, but there it is, my digital avatar, a public statement about who I am. Written, edited, and published by me.
Being perfect looks good. Look at my list — those are great things to put out into the world: Restoration. Connection. Honesty. Clarity. Hope.
But often for me there is a fear behind these qualities, an insecurity, a crack in the foundation — a secret in the basement:
What if the real me — the imperfect me, the one preceding my list — is not enough?
That fear makes it difficult, if not impossible, for me to carry the weight of my list for the long haul.
After 44 years, I am fatigued. On my present course, I can clearly see burnout on the horizon.
If being perfect eventually leads me to burnout, what good was my perfection? Did I inspire others for a time? How long will that inspiration last?
And perhaps more importantly, to where did my perfection lead? If all my efforts eventually lead me to burnout, to where am I ultimately leading others?
My good deeds will disappear — as quickly as the light of a blown-out candle. But the vibration of the quality of my being resounds forever.
I'm taking a break from being perfect. More specifically, I'm taking a break from carrying the weight of being perfect, in order to simply be.
My daughter Olivia didn't have a list. She wasn't able to do anything on others' list. She didn't even die when others said she was supposed to die. She never even got the hang of holding up her own head. But she was perfect.
Olivia didn't carry the weight of perfection; she embodied it by her being.
To be clear, my point is not that being perfect is bad; it is that the weight and responsibility of being perfect is not something we were ever meant to carry.
And I am starting to suspect that trying to carry that weight is likely to become the very thing which most prevents us from being the perfect beings we truly are.
So I'm putting that weight down. Yes, it is scary. The potential downside is that I will fade into mediocrity.
But think of the potential upside: What if I am perfect as I am? Before any doing, without any effort, at the level of my being?
Being perfect is not bad. It's possible — likely — that my list above truly does describe me. But I can spend my life playing the part of me, never really being me.
I'm taking a break from being perfect so that I can simply be me. Maybe that is perfect! Not because I made it so, but because it is so.
It's a risk. Letting go of my list could lead to loss. In fact, it will. But the potential upside is infinitely greater than the potential loss: by letting go of being perfect, I might discover that I am enough.