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This is a professional photo of the author Becky Vollmer
If you’re seeking perfectionism, you could (ironically) be holding yourself back from happiness. Below are tools to accept self acceptance – and recognize that we are all works in progress doing the best we can.
Note: This is a guest essay by Becky Vollmer
It’s amazing how having professional photos taken will trigger the pipsqueak twerp voice inside your head, setting that thing off in ways you thought were long gone.
I have a complicated relationship with my hair, as most women do.
About 2½ years ago, I traded in two decades of chasing a high-powered career. And the requisite pantsuits and high heels. Plus the polished coif that comes with it.
I was trading it all in in order to spend more time with my kids and pursue the long-deferred dreams of writing and teaching yoga.
At that time, I also decided to stop wrestling with my hair – and blow-drying and round-brushing and flat-ironing and sculpting – and allowed my natural curls to take over.
“You look like a hippie,” one said.
But, for the new people I meet, the ones who don’t know me any other way, my curls perfectly acceptable – accepted.
Over the last couple years I’ve actually become known for my curls.
These days, when blow outs are the exception rather than the norm, people will instead exclaim “Where are your curls?!” when I opt for straight tresses.
I must admit – I do love these curls. I love that they’re playful. Casual. Simultaneously soft and strong-willed. Even a little weird.
(Is it a coincidence that these are some of the traits I try to cultivate in myself?)
Most of all, though, I love that my natural curls are a symbol of my leap to freedom and happiness I’ve found since.
So when the photo shoot for my new website cropped up, I started obsessing over my hair.
I picked… straight.
Because I thought it would look better.
Sigh.
The mental gymnastics of insecurity and perfectionism are exhausting.
We need all our hours and minutes to lift ourselves up, not shred ourselves to bits.
I never fancied myself a perfectionist but Brené Brown showed me in “The Gifts of Imperfection” that I was wrong.
“Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to be your best.
Trying to be perfect is not about healthy achievement and growth.
Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgment, and shame.
It’s a shield – and a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us when, in fact, it’s the thing that’s really preventing us from taking flight.”
Did you hear that?
Brene Brown goes on to say:
“Research shows that perfectionism hampers success.
In fact, it’s often the path of depression, anxiety, addiction, and life-paralysis.
‘Life paralysis’ refers to all of the opportunities we miss because we’re too afraid to put anything out in the world that could be imperfect.
It’s also all of the dreams that we don’t follow because of our deep fear of failing, making mistakes, and disappointing others.
Plus it’s terrifying to risk when you’re a perfectionist; your self-worth is on the line.”
Or, as my hero Elizabeth Gilbert says…
Funny how it all comes back to fear, isn’t it?
It’s so easy to become paralyzed by that cycle of fear and perfectionism.
I need to look no further than the list of things I’ve started but abandoned because of fears they’re just not good enough:
But, as Brené Brown says: “You can’t do anything brave if you’re wearing the straightjacket of, ‘What will people think?’”
So, on this brave day, let’s say to hell with perfectionism and embrace acceptance.Let’s commit to trading in that straightjacket for the understanding that perfectionism is an unattainable illusion.
Next, let’s take a deep breath and put our true selves out there in new ways, accepting that what we have to offer will never be impeccable.
Finally, let’s ride the momentum that comes with the grace of finally embracing the philosophy behind Steinbeck’s words:
What do you say? Are you ready to swap perfectionism for the gift of self acceptance?
Note: This is a guest essay by Becky Vollmer
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