Your Perfectionism Is Killing You

(The following was originally written for a presentation in a class back in 2017. The assignment was to tell our story, accompanied by a visual aid, and how it impacted who we are today. Our challenge, however, was to take hold of the not-so-pretty pieces of it, and reclaim a new perspective that brought light, despite the nitty gritty. I chose to speak on what I have, for many years, struggled with internally, and used self-portraiture as my visual to mimic how I've often felt. This piece is, perhaps, the most intimately close piece I've ever written, and exposing it to the public feels a little vulnerable. But. I have felt compelled to share it - not for pity, not for sympathy, not for affirmation - but because these things, even if mild compared to the greater issues of the world, need to be talked about. There is power in "exposing things to light," as my pastor would say, and so that is where my heart is at.)

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"I had always thought it would be amazingly freeing to be loved in spite of my shortcomings. In my mind, it was a beautiful picture of the unmerited love God lavished upon me in Christ. In my heart, though, it felt like acid. My pride preferred to earn affection rather than to receive it. It was so hard to be loved in the midst of my brokenness because I wanted to be loved for my togetherness." -Jasmine Holmes

And for more years than I realized? It was killing me. In a literal sense? No. In a whirlwind of feeling mentally, physically, and spiritually zapped? Yes.

It distorted my body image.

Crushed my self-esteem.

Told me that I wasn't doing enough if no one noticed.

Persuaded me into mistaking burnout and busyness and a "works" mentality for high achievements.

Made me feel like I was going absolutely crazy.

I'm going to be honest with you. Can I tell you a story?

 Ever since I can remember, I have felt the utmost need to please people; to be perfect, you could say. I was diagnosed by a dear friend last year with something called "Perfectionism", and this year, I realized that it's been killing me. I didn't live a tragic childhood. I ate PB&Js, played Barbie dolls, and used my manners in public. To most, I appeared as having a completely normal, happy life. I had a good, stable family life and upbringing, friends who would play with me, and was brought up in a great church. And most of the time? It's true, life was chill ground - nothing earth shatteringly climactic happened.

 But under the layers, the truth is this: While life was outwardly really good, I also wrestled deeply with a great deal of constant anxiety and panic, and on top of it, an utmost need to please others. I couldn't process it. It could often feel...a bit crippling; difficult to process. I didn't pull the weeds when they first started to grow, and so that fear I felt as a little child carried over into teenhood, and then into adulthood...yes, even as a 21 year old. I felt as thought I always had to do more, and be more in order to feel okay. Nothing I did ever felt quite good enough. Even if my dreams came true - moving to the advanced division in gymnastics, landing my dream role in theatre, my vision for photography coming to fruition - the initial happiness felt temporary. Perfectionism. It was always a subconscious action of apology for not meeting the expectation, or my perceived expectation, of others.

 Do more; be more. It was an unwanted companion, and yet, I held tightly to it as though it were a dear friend. When I was younger, I was a scrawny little thing, complete with thin hair, knobby knees, and a gap between my teeth. A kid said my teeth were yellow. I was asked if I was anorexic, or told I looked as thin as paper. I was never worthy of a bra (Ok; so some things never change), and spiteful girls would never fail to inform me that my hair was frizzy, or that my skin was really pale, or that my poorly circulated legs were blotchy and purple. So I whitened my teeth. When puberty hit at the ripe old age of 17, the shapely body I desired started forming.  I whacked my hair off, and suddenly had a head full of thick, lovely curls. I bought shorts that showed off my legs, and thought that clothing and materialistic, temporary teenage girl shenanigans would ease my constant hunger for more. I always felt the need to say shocking things, or to always be funny, so that I could keep my card of feeling noticed, feeling visible. Because at the root of it? It made me feel loved. Humans are meant to feel loved, no? And for me, my unhealthy drive for perfection played into that. And so, over time, I did as much as I could to feel that. I was only running from myself though. Anything that I once did for the sheer joy of, I felt turn into a competition with myself. I felt the need to always be skinny, look a certain way, be able to do certain things, give the aura of having it all together, and like I was the "It" girl who wasn't an anxiety ridden little snowflake. 

Throughout my life, as the comments I heard and pressure I felt and perfectionism took hold - I began developing deep insecurities. I never really felt heard, and I felt that same way within school, extracurricular activities, and friend groups. My emotions and how I often reacted to circumstances in life did not give me the appearance of being stable...together...perfect, you might say. And so, I always felt the need to please people. Nothing I did ever felt quite good enough. I wanted to be the best at everything, and I craved to be more than just "average." I wanted to be heard, because I wanted to feel validated, which in return made me feel loved. The deep ache and fear I often felt seemed to lessen, if I could just satisfy someone's expectation of me. Even If I received a compliment or kind words, I felt the need to always prove that compliment or affirmation. "Do more; be more.." that mantra continued to make itself at home. 

I personally believe that perfectionism is a form of fear in and of itself - the fear of always feeling like you have to be above average, never mess up, and never let it show that you don't have it all together, or that life isn't chocolate cake. Perfectionism likes to display itself as a companion. It likes to make you think that in order to earn love, affection, and acceptance, you must always do more than you can humanly handle, and be more than 100%. But the truth? It is all a lie. Perfectionism gave me nothing gratifying. I wanted to be beautiful, capable, talented, and good at something. And I wanted to be recognized for it. I wanted to feel validated. Above average. Noticed. But everything I tried to do more of, be more of, only backfired. The healthy body I wanted turned into a distorted fight with my own body The marathon I wanted to run, left me sleep deprived and physically hurting. The dye on my hair and the cosmetics I bought were a cover for shame. The dreamy future I thought I would have was crushed by a painful reality.

I tried to fix myself, because I felt malfunctioned in all aspects. I liked feeling accepted. Validated. Above average. To distract myself from the nagging, relentless thoughts of my brain, I drowned out my mind with music. I stayed busy, or frivolously spent money. But the music felt like trying to eat dessert in hopes of feeling satiated, and my bank account dwindled down. To fix myself, I dyed my hair. I whitened my teeth. I became vegan. I discovered exercise. But the dye on my hair and the bleach on my teeth faded, my new eating method was only a swap of one form of restriction for another, and the exercise didn't seem like enough. I felt a need to really prove myself. So I signed up for a half marathon. I cut my caloric intake in half. I lost sleep. I lost my period. I lost my sanity. I lost my joy. I woke up as exhausted as I would go to bed. I felt sick, and would sleep during any pockets of the day I could. I felt like crap.  But I graced it as my #SelfDiscipline badge of #Honor, and didn't let it show on the outside. This was around the time a dear friend - who totally saw through the "It's Just #SelfDiscpiline" bullsh*t - also told me that my soul was imbalanced. She was right. But the half marathon wasn't enough. People acknowledged their perception of my "self discipline" (translation: "self destruction") with my diet and exercise regimen, and it made me feel like I was really doing something - something right, something more than average. But in order to earn that, I had to do more. So I signed up for a marathon. I woke up 3:30 each morning. I wanted to really stand out, be a WOW factor, so I bleached my hair. I lost some weight. I wore more makeup. People noticed me. People who otherwise never really approached me, noted my reinvention of myself and its splendor. But my body began hurting just as emotionally, as it did physically. I was sleep deprived, stressed and sad, yet continued replenishing my soul with chaos, which only demanded more. 

"I really, truly don't understand what God is trying to show me. I'm trying to do all the right things, yet my dreams and ambitions remain shattered. I can't do this. This world is the most bitter place...I have felt an emptiness like never before. I have become apathetic to things I once loved. I have isolated myself. I have kept myself busy. It's my drug. Busyness. It numbs the deep, confusing pain I have felt. My thoughts and obsessions are too much. And so, I drown it out with music. I force myself to stay busy. I fast for a day when I feel shame. I exercise to escape the harshness of reality. I'm fake. So fake. Faker than the dye on my hair. People say, 'You have so much energy!' And I smile. I bounce around. I put on the bubbly, confident face. But inside, I'm dying. I am sad and lonely. So lonely. I feel unlovable. I feel shame over who I am. I am terrified of my future. When I was a little girl, I had a distinct vision of who I thought I would be, and I am NOT her."    -Journal Entry, 2016

I was left feeling exhausted, depressed, let down, empty, but more than anything else - blinded to the glory of God, and the fear that He wasn't actually listening. My irrational fears and anxieties felt like reality, and my perfectionist nature couldn't seem to really do anything right. I didn't enjoy the things I used to. I felt enslaved to everything I did, and constantly wanted to prove something by it. I hit an all time low in December of 2016, but little did I know, my all time low would end up being quite a wake up call of my life. There was no sudden, magic fix all, but rather, a process. Some of the most simple, yet profound words a friend lovingly rebuked me with?

"You will never have all your shit together."

The truth - and this truth, I still am clinging tightly to and fighting for today, - is this: Humans weren't made to be superhuman. They weren't made to give 110%, when they can only humanly give 100%. I clung tightly to a quote that simply read: "Life is hard...and God is good." And you know what? It is true. For once, my frazzled mind believed an actual truth. He does not inflict a spirit of fear upon his children, nor is He arbitrary, nor does He require us as humans to earn his attributes. I didn't realize it, but just as much as I felt the utmost need to fulfill the expectations of others, constantly prove myself, and receive their validation - so I saw it by way of my spiritual life. In order to be good enough in the eyes of God, I had to do more, be more, and earn "Holy points" of sorts. I thought that perhaps I was somehow being punished, or dealing with emotionally draining situations just for the heck of it. But just as my perfectionist roots jaded my reality, and who I saw myself as, so they also jaded my perception of God's character. By His grace, we are set free from the chains of anxiety and perfectionism, and the "works" mentality tied to them. His attributes are those of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. I learned that whatever circumstance or hardship those of God might be going through, that He does not inflict pain or conflict just to be arbitrary. As John Piper would say: He does not delight in our pain, nor is it His heart's desire. Rather, he places boundaries around our pain, so that it leads to the good that He does, indeed, delight in. We were created to rest in his grace, and to simply receive it. 

Advice from me to you - believe and hold tightly to this: The shadow of who you once were will be overcome by light. Though your thoughts and human nature try and daunt you, believe that through the glory and goodness of God, they can be fully overcome. Believe that you can thrive. Believe that you can pursue your wildest dreams. Believe that you can find peace with your body again. Believe that you can rewire past comments and things said to you growing up, and claim that they hold no power of you. Believe that your fight in always wanting to do more and be more and having to earn approval and love and affection, will be replaced by knowing that you are enough. Believe that darkness will be eradicated by light.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it." 

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."