Unlearning Perfectionism
I used to think that my value lived in flawless execution — clean drafts, unbreakable routines, precise words. But perfectionism wasn't pushing me forward. It was holding me hostage. Behind every carefully crafted sentence was fear: of rejection, of ridicule, of being seen as less-than. I wasn’t writing — I was performing. I wasn’t creating — I was controlling.
Perfectionism, for me, was a trauma response wrapped in praise. A survival tactic that grew legs when I was told I had to be “the good one,” the quiet achiever. Every A+, every gold star felt like proof that I could earn love. But writing isn’t tidy. Healing isn’t linear. And the best stories I’ve ever read — or written — were messy, human, true.
Imperfect is Not Incomplete
Letting go of perfectionism didn’t mean lowering my standards. It meant learning to show up, even if I wasn’t sure I had the right words. It meant hitting “publish” on a piece that still felt a little raw. It meant writing for connection — not for applause.
Now, I write drafts that are wild and loose. I let typos live for a day. I edit with curiosity, not shame. I’ve learned that a first draft is just a beginning — not a reflection of my worth. And that being real is more impactful than being perfect.
What I’m Practicing Instead
Compassion — for the parts of me that still panic when something feels “off.”
Curiosity — toward my process, especially when it feels stuck.
Play — because writing gets better when it stops being a test.
I’m unlearning perfectionism one typo at a time. And with every imperfect post, I feel freer.