How not to be perfect: 14 lessons in being bad at things
Although I hate to admit it, I, like many others, used to use perfectionism as something of a humble brag. By claiming I was a perfectionist, I was pretending to say, “It takes me ages to finish stuff because I need everything to be perfect”, when really what I meant was, “Everything I do is perfect”.
It took me a long time to understand how toxic the idea of perfectionism really is. Perfectionism isn’t simply taking pride in good work, it is the debilitating fear of doing bad work. Perfectionism is a product of vanity and ego, not good work ethic.
But even now that I’m fully aware of this, it’s still hard to overcome this horrible fear of being bad at something. Or worse, being bad at something in front of other people.
I don’t even know how much this fear of being bad at something has held me back in life. How many things I could have tried or ways I could have improved if I weren’t terrified of opening myself up to judgement or criticism.
This is an open letter to me, and to perfectionists like me. A reminder that we’re allowed to suck at things. A reminder that “perfect is the enemy of good”.
You’re allowed to like something without knowing everything about it. You can like a sports team without knowing its full history. You can be a fan of a certain band because of one or two albums you know by heart and nothing else. You can like an author without being familiar with all their work. It’s okay to have gaps in your knowledge of the things you love. It doesn’t make you any less authentic.
You’re allowed to have a hobby that you’re not good at. It’s okay to love to draw, or paint, or play guitar, or write, or ride a bike, and be bad at it.
You’re allowed to enjoy the hobbies that you’re afraid people will judge as too easy, too boring, or too unconventional. Your hobbies can include anything from coloring, to bird watching, to learning about all the different types of coffee, or cutting shoes in half.
You’re allowed to improve some aspects of your health even if you’re not managing to lose weight. Or gain weight, or build muscle, or achieve your body goals whatever they are. Fixing a vitamin deficiency, lowering your cholesterol, being able to walk longer or faster, improving the quality of your sleep—these are all things that count as progress, even if you’re still behind in other ways. You can be moving forward without seeing your progress reflected in the number on the scale.
You’re allowed to eat better without eating perfectly. You can cut refined sugar, even if you’re still eating other types of processed foods. You’re allowed to have salad for lunch even if you’ve had waffles for breakfast. You don’t have to write the day off just because you ate something less than perfect.
You’re allowed to love walking but hate running. You can be a great walker without ever having to be a runner, and it doesn’t mean you’re lazy or athletically-challenged. You can sign up for walkathons without ever having to run a marathon.
You’re allowed to go to the gym and only use the treadmill. You’re not any less of a gym-goer if you always make a beeline to your favorite machine and feel intimidated by all the others that you’re less familiar with.
You’re allowed to have beliefs, values, or ideals without being able to live up to them all the time. You will fail to live up to your ideals some of the time. You can be religious and still fall in and out of worship and practice. You will have lapses in moral judgement. It doesn’t make you a phony, and it doesn’t mean you believe or care any less.
You’re allowed to speak a language with a heavy accent or broken grammar. There’s so much value in learning a language, and so much value in being able to communicate with others even at the most basic level. Fluency is great, but it’s also worth it to learn a language half-way. And it’s worth it to learn a language even if you never manage to lose your accent along the way.
You’re allowed to dance even if you have horrible rhythm. That is, if you like dancing. You’re also allowed to hate dancing, and that doesn’t mean that something’s wrong with you—it doesn’t mean you’re too inhibited, too serious, or a control freak.
You’re allowed to love reading but have a fear of big books. A lot of avid bookworms are intimidated by the sight of a big book. I love to read, but it takes something really special to make me read a book that’s over 400 pages. It doesn’t mean I don’t really like to read—it just means my mind works better with short-term projects. I like finishing stuff. And big books discourage me because I’m afraid I’ll get bored or distracted before I’m able to finish them.
You’re allowed to love reading, even if your preferred genres are seen by other readers as simple or lacking in substance. You’re a reader if you only read romance novels, or young adult novels, or self-help books. Reading has many benefits, but, to me, the main benefit is engaging that part of your brain that transforms words into vivid scenes, emotions, or ideas. You can achieve that by reading anything from romance to fantasy to political science or history.
You’re allowed to play a musical instrument badly. You can enjoy playing piano even if you only know a handful of songs by heart and can’t read any sheet music.
You’re allowed to be a creator with a specific niche or specialty. You’re a writer regardless whether you only write essays, blog posts, or larger works of literature. You can be good at short stories but not novels. You can be good at nonfiction but not fiction.
There are so many ways that you can suck at something and still be good at it. Good at part of it. Good at enjoying it. Good at deriving some value or fulfilment from it.
