From the category archives:

Perfectionism

Perfectionism: It’s All In the Eye of the Beholder

by Gloria on October 12, 2009

The other morning I got out of bed before my husband and, as I was brushing my teeth, I saw him get up and make the bed. Making the bed for my perfectionist husband means throwing the blankets willy-nilly back over the bed, period. What is wrong with this picture? Is that the way a perfectionist makes a bed?

I said, “Don’t bother. You know I am going to make the bed again the right way.” To which my loving spouse replied, “Of course, Madam Perfectionist.” How dare he call me a perfectionist! This from a man who took a year to complete making bookcases for the living room and got upset because they were 1/100 of an inch off.

I admit that I used to be a perfectionist and still have traces of it. I ask you, dear readers, what is perfectionistic about wanting to smooth the creases from the sheets, fluff the pillows and straighten the blankets so the wrinkles don’t show? It’s not as if I measure how many inches the comforter hangs off the floor. I don’t even demand hospital corners.

The trouble with perfectionism is that there are no concrete guidelines against which to measure bona fide perfectionism. Each purist stakes out an area to focus on. In that sector of life the need for perfection takes over, yet in other parts “good enough” is tolerated. Perfectionists tend to fall into different categories, but all share the burden of having unreasonably high expectations. Some tend to be detail oriented while others are uncompromising about rules. Another group’s behavior is influenced by their need to avoid mistakes. Most perfectionists worry about how they will look to others.

Although I don’t think I was expecting too much by wanting to have my husband make the bed the “right way,” the definition of “right” is what started our disagreement. People who are sticklers for doing things right are perfectionists if their standards are irrationally high. But who decides what is too high? There’s the rub.

My husband thought I was too demanding while I staunchly held to my belief that what I considered the right way to make a bed was reasonable. I am entitled to my preference for neatness. Which of us was right or were neither of us right? As the day went on I started to doubt myself. Was my request a sign that I am still a perfectionist? One of the hallmarks of perfectionists is their discomfort and frustration if things are not done the way they want. Yes, I felt frustrated because I didn’t want to go to sleep in a “used” bed that night. That would feel icky.

Continuing to look into myself with rigorous self-honesty, I realized that I might still fit into the category best described as obsessive about rules. I admit that I get a wonderful feeling of satisfaction putting things in order. Nothing beats using my label-making machine to create a load of files to store papers, articles and assorted detritus that wash up on my desk. I even have a small notebook where I keep track of all the books I reserve at the library, in alphabetical order by author. Spending time in my hobby closet with the boxes that house the beads I’ve gathered over the years to create necklaces gives me great pleasure. I get a thrill looking at the boxes of red, blue, green, black, white, turquoise, and glass bits all in their proper containers.

Wait a minute! The reason I do not accept the label of perfectionist is that I am not driven by the fear of what others will think since most of my orderliness is never seen by anyone but me. A place for everything and everything in its place seems reasonable to me. At my age it is mandatory since I frequently put things down and can’t remember where I put them. Perhaps my love of order is because I have Virgo as the Rising Sign in my astrological chart. I have to go now because we’ve just put in new kitchen cabinets, and I have to make sure everything goes in the right place.

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Will the Real Perfectionist Please Stand Up

by Gloria on September 8, 2009

An hour before our family was coming for Thanksgiving dinner my husband, the perfectionist, disappeared. He ran to the store to buy matching folding chairs. At that time we were living in a house that had a huge kitchen but no dining room, hence no dining room set that included matching table and chairs.

I was fuming because I needed his help with other preparations. His need for things to look perfect was bugging me, the former perfectionist. I went into the guest bathroom to admire the new wallpaper we had put up and make sure the guest soap and towels were in place.

Then I glanced down at the floor in horror. He had not replaced the molding along the bottom of the walls after hanging the wallpaper. There was only a gaping empty area. I was confused. How could such a world class perfectionist spend a couple of hours on a national holiday trying to find an open store that sold chairs but not care that the bathroom was incomplete and far from perfect? My formerly perfectionistic self would have mandated that both areas be faultless.

That is the puzzle about perfectionism. Each obsessive purist has his or her own rules about what must be without reproach. Apparently my husband’s did not include an unfinished bathroom. Maybe it’s because he is both a perfectionist and a procrastinator who often doesn’t finish projects. Not all procrastinators are perfectionists, but most perfectionists are procrastinators.

Since I was no longer a perfectionist, yes you can recover from it, I just shrugged and got on with my preparations. I consoled myself by remembering a client who had come to my home office and was impressed after using that bathroom because it was imperfect, and it didn’t seem to bother me. She turned me into her role model for moving past perfectionism.

Perfectionists are driven by the nebulous fear, “I must be perfect or else …” They act as if they will be guillotined or drawn and quartered if they are not perfect. It was obvious to me that my husband’s behavior was motivated by the fear of what people will think, but which people?

At the end of the day, after everyone had gone, I cornered my husband and explained that I was puzzled by his behavior. “I can’t understand why you had to leave just before our guests arrived and drove around like a madman trying to buy matching chairs, yet you weren’t embarrassed by all the people who went to the unfinished bathroom today.”

I asked my husband what he was afraid would happen if the chairs didn’t match. Who would care? And what would happen if one of our guests cared? He explained that his mother used to try to put on airs to impress people since she didn’t think she was good enough. Therefore, things had to look right.

  asked what his “or else…” was and he couldn’t come up with an answer except that it would displease his mother. “But she’s dead!” I screamed in frustration. “Was she perfect? When are you going to stop acting like a child and make your own decisions about what is right and wrong?” I demanded.

When I was growing up we lived in an apartment. I recall many happy holiday meals there. We would open a table in the living room and pull up any available chairs, even the piano bench. Nobody minded. They remembered the happy times and my mother’s wonderful cooking. My husband was influenced by his mother’s disapproval. I was influenced by my mother’s lack of worry about what people might think.

Who are the people who will think you deserve to be drummed out of the human race if you aren’t good enough? Are they perfect? Did God appoint certain people to be His representatives on earth to point and jeer or punish? What are the qualifications that make those people worthy of judging you?

Perfectionistic thinking is irrational. Break the chains of “or else…” thinking by asking yourself what you are afraid will happen if you aren’t perfect. Whose voice do you hear? Do you need permission to disagree? I guarantee you won’t be struck by lightning.

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