In the past I have eluded to the fact that I am a bit of, um, a perfectionist.  This perfectionism extends to many aspects of my life, and many will tell you that I can be overzealous in my pursuits.  I personally know many people who are perfectionists, but most of these people are perfectionists in particular areas or are capable of occasionally turning it off.  I, on the other hand, have incredibly difficulty with this.  Actually, I have a lot of difficulty discussing it as well.  This is a post that I’ve been meaning to write for some months now but have repeatedly talked myself out of writing or found reasons not to.

Perfectionism has its benefits, that can’t be denied.  Unfortunately, it has a lot of disadvantages as well, but to say that seems quite obvious.  Some people realise that they are perfectionists; some don’t, but regardless, those that do see an infinite number of advantages in it.  I personally see how much I have accomplished in my life due to my perfectionism, and that gives me a sort of pride in myself that I don’t get otherwise.  I justify my behaviour on the grounds that it gets me to where I need to go, where I want to go, and that getting there is what will make me happy.  You see, I use the future as a reason for my actions in the present.  It’s not that I do anything bad or terrible;  I don’t.  What I do seems entirely harmless.  That is, unless you actually see what it does to me.  I am constantly stressed, I don’t get nearly enough sleep, I obsess over everything from the minute to the important, I work all the time, and when I’m not working?  I think about working and everything I need to do.  In short, my perfectionism reigns over me.  This is not a good thing.

And yet, still I can’t shake it.  I know that I go to the extreme, and I often defend my behaviour even when I know I’m wrong (though, sometimes I really do not realise that I am), and all because I see the benefits of it and for me they seem to override the negatives, even though if I sit down and rationally think about everything I realise that the disadvantages of what I do are really harmful.

The funny thing about all of this, though, is that I absolutely hate being a perfectionist and I hate it ruling over my life.  I hate what it does to me and I hate that it so frequently prevents me from having fun.  I know, I just said that I justify it even though I realise it’s bad and now I say that I hate it.  So, why do I do it, right?  I think part of it really is that I believe the excuses I come up with.  I don’t know if I actually believe them or if I’ve conned myself into believing them, but I believe them.  A large deal of it, though, is simply because of what I’ve been around and what I grew up with.  I am the youngest child, and growing up I saw all the accomplishments of my brother & sister.  My siblings more or less created the standard by which I was to be judged.  Although I’m not sure if my parents would agree with this, I distinctly got that impression growing up, if not explicitly then by suggestion.  Any sort of pride my parents would display over something my brother or sister did would immediately result in me making a mental note that I had to one-up them when my time came.  I don’t suppose I need to mention how horrible this is.  It become an obsession, a compulsion.  So much of what I did was because I felt like I had to exceed the status quo set for me.  It’s always been that while other people were out having fun and enjoying themselves, I would be in my room thinking up what I needed to do next and how exactly I was going to go about accomplishing it.

It didn’t help that I grew up in an affluent town where it was flaunted what a great school system we had.  Whenever we had school-wide convocations our principals would stress how special we were, how we were the elite and how we were the great minds of the future.  I understand that to them this was to be praise and encouragement, but to me this was a rather tall order.  Yeah, it wasn’t a request — in fact, it wasn’t even an order — but I perceived it as such.

My perfectionism is especially unrelenting with regards to school, but it goes so much beyond that; it extends to work, to my reputation and social behaviour, to practising my faith, to being a friend, etc.  I feel the pressure to be perfect, or as close to perfect as possible since perfect is not realistically possible.  I don’t know why.  I’ve mentioned some reasons, but I don’t think that they alone contribute to the way I am; many people experience the same sort of pressures I did and manage to remain admirably lazy or moderate in their efforts.  I think my personality also contributes.  I think it would have to in order for me to so single-mindedly pursue such achievements when I myself don’t necessarily wish to.  I keep trying to impress people and to impress myself with what I do and I honestly don’t know why.  I just know that I feel the need to and that I get anxious when I don’t.  I’ve tried to quell my perfectionism, but I haven’t been successful.  I get nervous, I get fidgety and I feel like something is very, very wrong.  I can’t sleep, I can’t think about anything else.  So, I give in to my natural inclinations and the anxiety lessens.

It’s something I keep battling and most likely will for the rest of my life.  The truth of that sentence is not inspiring.  It’s literally something I deal with every day from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep at night.

My biggest battle lately has been with grad school.  I had been debating whether to apply for the MA or the PhD programme since the PhD programme is only one year longer than the MA.  Many people, family members included, have tried to sway me to go the PhD route.  Why?  Because it’s only a year longer and because then I could be Dr. Lindsay.  Those are their reasons, and I’m entirely serious about that.  In fact, those are the only reasons.  The bragging rights.  The only other reason would be if I wished to become a professor, and I do not; the college teaching scene is much too political for my tastes and I do not wish to be a part of it.  So, the MA route seems the natural one to take.  My perfectionist nature has a very serious problem with this, even if it is the most logical and the best one for me.  I try to remind myself of this, but then I have to deal with the pressures of other people.  I’m sure those people don’t intend to pressure me and would support me in my decision to go the MA route (which is my decision, by the way), but I still get the impression that they’re going to be disappointed.  I still feel like they view my decision as the wrong one and that I am in some way ruining my life.  It bothers me.  I actually think about this nearly every day and keep teetering and agonising over my decision, only to then remind myself that I’m just being irrational and that my decision to apply for the MA over the PhD isn’t going to have drastic effects on my life or result in anything bad at all.  Then I tell myself that I’m being optimistic and trying to make myself feel better, when in reality I am being foolish and idiotic and goodness gracious, girl, apply for the PhD already!

It’s tough.  It’s confusing.  It’s unbearable.  But it’s a part of who I am.  Despite the fact that I keep rotating through this painful cycle, I do actually think that the best decision for me is to get an MA and not a PhD because I know that my reasons for getting a PhD would be purely superficial.  And superficial?  Bad.  Here’s where I insert the religious guilt and tell myself that superficiality is terrible and to indulge in it is a bad, bad thing.  Then I realise that THIS WHOLE THING has been about superficiality and that it’s all terrible, which in turn means I’m terrible.  Then I tell myself I must rid myself of this badness, only to then feel the above mentioned anxiety and panic which result in me returning to the superficial perfectionist mess.  My mind is a scary place.

Anyway, I’m hoping that one day I’ll learn to be able to handle my inner demons better and that I’ll maybe learn some degree of moderation.  That day does not seem to be any day soon, but I can’t exactly expect to alter 21 years of ingrained behaviour in one night.  Two nights, maybe, but not one.  (Ha, see what I did there?  Because I’m a perfectionist?  Am I the only one who thought that funny?)