In my last post, I said I didn’t know how to articulate what freedom was, but was simply living it. Lately, I’ve been realizing how laying down specific burdens has opened up more freedom in my life. I had a lot of thoughts, so I decided to write a blog series about it. First up, perfectionism.

Losing Control

When I was a kid, I strove to be perfect. A perfect student. A perfect pianist. A perfect friend. A perfect Christian. A perfect daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, step-daughter, step-sister, step-granddaughter, step-niece, and half-sister. After my parents’ divorce, my family and daily life morphed in ways I couldn’t control, so I sought to control the one thing I could: myself.

Mistakes were unacceptable. Slip ups were unacceptable. Failure was unacceptable. Conflict with others was also unacceptable. If I did something unacceptable, it meant that I was unacceptable.

While I was able to relax a bit in college and beyond, aspects of this mindset have stuck with me. I have sometimes been drawn to controlled communities and controlling spaces where this part of me is amplified (the classical music world, legalistic churches, academia…). I’ve ended up in places where mistakes aren’t tolerated. Where slip ups are punished. Where one perfect ideal is pushed. (Too much of our world is like this!)

The Weight of Perfection

Recently, after leading worship at church by myself––something I hadn’t done in a quite awhile––I was surprised to find that I wasn’t utterly exhausted like I used to be. I had something left to give. Was this possibly because I was no longer putting pressure on myself to be perfect?!

Leading worship at my old church was an incredibly weighty task. I knew my church leaders were watching me, judging whether my performance was good enough for me to keep leading. And “good enough” wasn’t just about musical excellence, but about an elusive standard of spiritual anointing. I also had a high standard for myself. I had been taught that worship leaders had the spiritual responsibility of leading everyone into God’s presence, and I took that responsibility very seriously. And it took a lot out of me.

At my current church, no one puts this kind of pressure on me, which makes a huge difference. I have also been consciously practicing laying down those pressures for myself. When I preach, when I lead praise, God’s main reminder to me is simply to bring my genuine self onto the stage. So that day, as I often do, I did some self-talk before church started: It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you. You don’t have to play perfectly. Cast self-consciousness aside and be fully present.

“Just use me as a vessel, God,” I whispered as I sat up on stage, waiting to play.

How about we work together as partners? the Spirit replied.

Something shifted inside of me at the Spirit’s invitation. And it felt right.

Perfectionism: Lone Wolf Work

At the beginning of year, the therapist I was seeing pointed out that I wasn’t inviting her into the process of my healing. “You always come to your sessions and report to me all the work you’ve done on yourself throughout the week. But I’d also like to join you in your healing process. Will you let me?”

When she said that, I felt so vulnerable. First, I realized that I was still that perfect student, trying to control everything, seeking to impress even my therapist. Second, I realized how hard it is for me to let others in. I often think of vulnerability as something easy for me. I would say that I’m willing to share more personal things with a wider audience than the average person. But sharing about my life with people is different from inviting people into my life. I prefer to do things solo. I prefer to rely only on myself. Other people can be unreliable and unpredictable. If you invite others in or work with them, you have less control.

Even in therapy, I preferred to do the vulnerable work of self-reflection and change on my own and then relay it to my therapist. In my sessions, I received validation and sometimes added direction, and that was enough for me. It was a system that worked. But if I came to the session without an agenda? Without having reached my own epiphanies during the week? My therapist might disappoint me. She might not know how to help me. Even though it was her job to do so, I knew she was only human. I didn’t want to take that risk.

People haven’t always shown up for me in the ways that I’ve needed. People have often disappointed me. And while learning that I can always choose to show up for myself has been empowering, I know there is another step of growth beyond learning to trust myself and accept myself as I am. It’s a step even beyond surrendering to the divine and completely letting go of control (as I was always taught at church).

It’s the more nuanced, complicated step of learning to trust other humans and collaborate with them.

Letting Others In

Recently I was getting tied up in knots about an upcoming recital. Not mine, but my beginner piano students’. Some of these kids barely know which piano keys are which. Some of them have cried during class because they get overwhelmed. And now they have to go up on stage and perform? I was terrified about what might happen. But I felt this pressure to push them to be excellent. Because my boss said it was important. Because if they failed, I would look bad as their teacher. And the pressure was even more unnerving than when I perform because I had less control over the outcome. STRESS.

Fortunately, I am in a life coach training program at the moment (which has been amazing!), and as part of my training, I coach and get coached by my classmates. I’m also encouraged to practice coaching on myself. So recently, as fear was gripping me about this upcoming sure-to-be-disastrous recital, I asked myself: What are you afraid of? (That I will fail and be deemed unacceptable––not just as a teacher, but as a human being.) What if you were able to lay down your fear? What might be possible for you and for your students in this situation?

These questions helped me step out of my fear into curiosity. Rather than thinking about what might go wrong, I started considering what good could happen. I started viewing it as an opportunity. For my students to have fun. For them to feel empowered. For me to communicate that they are valuable and their effort is valuable whether they perform perfectly or not.

This was helpful, but the fear was still lingering. Then a coaching classmate pushed me further: “What would happen if you talked to your boss about this and told her how you feel?”

Controlling, afraid me did not want to do that. It felt like adding another unpredictable factor to the equation. What if my boss condemned me or used this information against me? What if her response confirmed my fears that her expectations of me and my students were simply unreasonable? What if I ended up feeling even more pressured and alone?

But talking through the specifics with my coaching classmate made this conversation feel possible. So that evening, I talked to my boss. I told her I was stressed and why. And she immediately offered me empathy, reassurance, and possible solutions. My fears immediately dissolved.

In that moment, I ceased to be alone. In that moment, I suddenly had an ally. In that moment, my perfectionist narrative that I need to be perfect in order to be acceptable was proved wrong.

What Might be Possible?

Sometimes it’s hard for me to see an alternative to control. Perfection (i.e. control) was the way I attempted to establish safety, stability, and security for myself as a kid. Despite the toll that strategy has taken on me, it is ingrained in me. I am the only person I can trust, has been one of my (often subconscious) main guiding mantras throughout my life.

But I am learning to let go. I am intentionally practicing letting go. And the energy that is freed up inside of me when I do is amazing.

It’s amazing how much freer I am to be the best version of myself when I stop focusing on what mistakes I might make and instead focus on what positive things I might create or contribute. It’s amazing how much lighter I feel when I let other people in and find allies to help me navigate life. It’s amazing what a difference it makes to engage in communities that actively push back against the mindset that performance equals identity.

The Opposite of Perfectionism

Perfectionism makes life smaller. Perfectionism says there is only one, narrow way of doing things. One goal. One lane. Everything else is wrong. Everything else brings shame. This way of thinking shuts down possibilities and encourages lone wolf, independent living.

The opposite of perfectionism is not failure or surrendering control, it’s exploration and collaboration. It’s a growth mindset, a freedom that invites others in and considers multiple options. It’s a mindset that isn’t trying to avoid mistakes, but is seeking joy, love, beauty, connection, creativity, and possibility.

It often feels easier to control. To earn. To plan. To criticize. TO KEEP THINGS IN ORDER. But there’s a better way. It’s slower, more unpredictable, and riskier. It’s more vulnerable. But it’s better.

Instead of finding my security in perfection and control (which aren’t possible anyway), I’m learning to find it in love, in a network of loving relationships (including the one I have with myself and the one I have with God). I’m learning to invest in building trust in those relationships rather than seeking to control how I perform in life. It’s a richer way of living.

Relationships can be messy, though. I’ll be the first to admit it. In the next post in this series, I’ll share about my journey in learning to have better emotional boundaries in relationships. But for now, I leave us with this thought: When we are tempted to isolate ourselves and grasp onto control, what might it look like, feel like, be like to come out of the cave and choose connection, vulnerability, and collaboration instead? What might be possible?