I’ve never considered myself to be a perfectionist.
To me, perfectionists are very neat. I am anything but neat. My desk is actually a nest. Full of what might seem like random mess, but is actually evidence that I’ve been here. Pens, make-up, facial wipes, headphones, pimple patches, books, Vicks vapour rub, antiseptic wipes, hair brush, cables, hand sanitiser, wound spray, Salicylic acid, envelopes, a printer, microphones, empty wrappers of the protein bars I keep on my desk so that I can say that I’ve eaten something. I’m messy. No doubt about it.
To me, perfectionists obsess over details. I’m good with details when I’m being paid to be good with details. I don’t obsess over the details of my own work. That’s what editors are for, right? I think quicker than I can type, so of course there are going to be mistakes. I can fix those later. The point is to have more on the page than when I started. That’s it. That’s all the goal is. You can’t edit nothing. Two thirds of what I write ends up on the virtual floor anyway. I’m not obsessive over details.
To me, perfectionists maintain a very particular aesthetic. Whether it’s the husband, wife and 2.4 children, with a dog and two cars. Whether it’s the pilates hottie in subtle blush tones that loves a pumpkin spice latte in the autumn. Whether it’s the slick and sleek CEO type, in the grey house with nothing on the walls, done to suggest that they’re a minimalist, when in fact they just have no personality. When I think of perfectionists they have their public persona all figured out. They are precise about how they present themselves to the world (whether it is true or not). That’s definitely not me. I don’t have an aesthetic schtick I present consistently to the world. At least I don’t think I do. I am so rarely public facing that I don’t have to think about it.
To me, perfectionists have one way of doing things, their way. It’s the right way, and everyone else should do it their way too. I like to think I don’t try to force my way of doing things on to people. Not any more. And when I did, it was literally my job to do that because I designed business processes. But I think I was open to feedback at least. I can recognise when I’m not the expert and need input. There are only few things I definitely won’t allow others to do because my way is the right way for me. How I make my morning coffee is kind of abominable. I wouldn’t want anyone knowing how I do it lest they judge me for it. I’ll just keep that to myself. I know how I like it, no one else has to see that.
To me, perfectionists are uptight and have unrealistic standards. I used to have family who were like this. They definitely had no problem telling me I was a failure and worthless because I didn’t meet their expectations that they never communicated to me. It was always after the fact that I would learn that whatever I had done was not quite right, not what they would have done.
I will concede that I can be uptight. Since my estrogen levels started depleting, my ability to hide or mask my sensory sensitivities has also depleted. I fucking hate sudden, loud, random noises. It sets me on edge, and it takes a really long time to settle my nerves afterwards. I used to think it was because I grew up in a house with explosive personalities who would yell at me or each other, but I’ve recently learned that estrogen depletion fucks up a lot of things1. I wear headphones or earplugs most of the time in case my hearing is assaulted and my central nervous system gets dysregulated. Yeah, I can be uptight about that.
I don’t think I have unrealistic standards. I want to finish, and have published, the books I’ve almost completed. That’s definitely not unrealistic. That happens to people every day. Why shouldn’t it happen to me too?
That’s how I’ve always thought about perfectionists, and why I never considered myself to be one. I’m a messy, big-to-mid-picture thinker, with no fixed aesthetic who likes to explore different ways of doing things and communicates standards expected in advance. I prefer quiet spaces, and I don’t let anyone else make my morning coffee.
But then I read about perfectionism.
The perfectionist is highly self-critical.
I don’t think I’m alone when I say that I believe I am my own biggest critic. It’s a defence mechanism, for sure. There aren’t many things other people could say that would hurt me. The really hurtful stuff has all been said before, fortunately by people who are now dead. So now I’m just here with the scar tissue that’s thicker than normal flesh.
There was one writing group I was in a few years ago where a woman told me that the draft I had submitted was “all telling, no showing”. And that was a fine and fair criticism to have of that draft. But the disgust in her voice was kind of shocking. That she would be repulsed by something as simple as some bad writing that isn’t hers revealed something about her that she probably will never examine. Being told my writing is bad is not the end of the world. There are plenty of awful books out there. Plenty of books I haven’t finished reading because I didn’t think they were interesting enough. If there are any self-evident truths at all one would surely be this: Bad writing is no barrier to publication.
Of course, I am critical of myself. I tell myself my fiction is too genre-non-conforming and weird. My non-fiction isn’t clever enough. I’m useless at marketing myself because I don’t believe I’m a product and it’s holding me back. I will never be “known for one thing” because I can’t narrow myself down to a genre, or a theme, or a topic, because I don’t see the world in that way either. I am one of billions of people on the planet and nothing special. Literally no one cares whether I do this or not. Most of the time that’s liberating.
In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron says "The Perfectionist is never satisfied. The perfectionist never says, 'This is pretty good. I think I'll just keep going.’” And I fully guffawed when I read it. That is not a thought that would ever occur to me naturally. I won’t say it never happens, but it doesn’t happen without conscious intervention. (That’s what editors and therapists are for, right?) I don’t often think "The work is bad, I can just fix it." It’s more like "I am bad, and I must fix myself."
I’m going to go out on a limb and say that The Artist’s Way is not a trauma-informed book, so be careful before you engage it. I suspect that most people who grew up in an abusive household are not starting at “This is pretty good. I think I’ll just keep going.” If one of the core beliefs you were taught from childhood to your 40s, was 'You will never be good or enough’ is that really perfectionism, or does that just lead to perfectionistic behaviour? I dunno. I don’t have time here to examine the connection between perfectionism and shame (these things do better around 1,500 words), but I’m sure it will come up again. Elsewhere. In depth. With my therapist.
The perfectionist fears failure.
I don’t think of myself a fearing failure either. Failure is relative. I operate on a “Nothing is wasted” mentality when it comes to writing. Whether it’s morning pages, scribbling down notes on a dream, writing about writing, writing a whole bunch of rubbish that you know is going to end up in the bin is all for the greater good of getting underneath the surface to the good bits. Getting rejected from publications is also just part of the deal. It is literally a “spray and pray” type of process. There are no surprises if those things happen.
Failure, to me, would be dying without at least one of my current manuscripts on the shelf. Sure, if I die before then I probably won’t care about it. (I have no idea if there is an afterlife or not.) And maybe to some people that might unrealistic standards, but having watched people abandon their creative selves and die before ever fully realising their creativity, I know I don’t want that to be me. Life is very short; Go make some art.
But I should rule out ‘fear of failure’ because my real fear is something that I probably won’t be able to witness or experience anyway.
The perfectionist has all-or-nothing thinking.
Now that is me, and this is not the healthiest way to think: Write or Die.
I lie awake in bed at night thinking about how in the morning it will be different. (Maybe it’s not thinking, maybe it’s praying.) I will wake up full of dopamine and serotonin, with my executive functioning firing on all cylinders. I’ll write and I won’t die in the morning. If necessary I’ll do what I did to get through my PhD: write and cry.
Then in the afternoon, when the dopamine has dropped and my executive functioning is spluttering, I’ll go and do things that get me out of myself or the house. Things that are commitments to others, and a reminder that there are people around, I’m in a community, and I can still connect with people no matter how weird and awkward I’ve become. Someone will know if I die.
And I know this is bleak. I know it’s probably too much information. I’m probably oversharing, and it’s making people uncomfortable. Let’s just add that to the hyper critical self-talk.
Maybe getting this out will be a turning point for me. Any time I have tried to get real-world help for any of this it hasn’t gone well. I am reluctant to waste more precious energy asking for help only to be set back and out of pocket again.
At the same time I know I have never had a single unique experience in my entire life. I’m not the only one out there like this. Vulnerability is strength and all that.
THIS WEEK
Most listened to song: ‘Acapella’ by Kelis
Favourite thing I’ve watched: Nothing. It’s a whole thing.
Favourite thing I’ve read: ‘The Myth of Left and Right: How the Political Spectrum Misleads and Harms America' by Hyrum Lewis and Verlan Lewis
I’m most excited by: Continuing.
Barnett, Claire. “Could I Be Autistic, Too?’ Signs of Autism in Women with ADHD.” ADDitude, ADDitude, 19 Mar. 2025, www.additudemag.com/autism-in-women-adhd-signs-symptoms-treatment/.
Behrman S, Crockett C. Severe mental illness and the perimenopause. BJPsych Bulletin. 2024;48(6):364-370. doi:10.1192/bjb.2023.89
Moseley, Rachel L et al. “'When my autism broke': A qualitative study spotlighting autistic voices on menopause.” Autism : the international journal of research and practice vol. 24,6 (2020): 1423-1437. doi:10.1177/1362361319901184
Wasserstein, Jeanette. “Menopause, Hormones & ADHD: What We Know, What Research Is Needed.” ADDitude, ADDitude, 19 Mar. 2025, www.additudemag.com/menopause-hormones-adhd-women-research/.
“Estrogen Controls How the Brain Processes Sound.” ScienceDaily, ScienceDaily, 6 May 2009, www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/05/090505174543.htm.