I was walking in the park this morning. Past the hundreds of thousands of millions of leaves, all applauding each other in the wind.
Which one of them isn’t perfect?
Which leaf hasn’t “lived up to its potential”?
Which has “fallen short”?
They seem like slightly ridiculous questions. (And yet, are there times that you ask them of yourself?)
In light of all of these leaves, the idea of “perfection” seems suddenly a bit lifeless and arbitrary next to the endless, vibrant variations dripping from the boughs.
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I have often struggled with perfectionism. It has been a significant source of stress as I spend more time on tasks because they aren’t complete to my standards. My standards are almost always higher than my peers. And not meeting my standards rarely feels like failure; it just feels incomplete. And if I am forced into dropping a task before it is complete in order to start the next task, that’s when the stress gets me. When I realize that I’m being unreasonable and unforgiving to myself, I ask myself “what would happen if I spent less time and did only what was absolutely necessary?” Would anyone notice that I didn’t do my “best”? But most of all, when I get a chance to see how my less than perfect work is every bit as good as the completed work of my peers, I know that my perfectionism is holding me back. When I’m struggling with a task, I remind myself of those moments then move on. I don’t have to be a perfect leaf to be valued.
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