On Being a Perfectionist

...and how to get over yourself

Are you a perfectionist? I sure am. Although I feel like I’ve gotten more relaxed over the years, there’s always the temptation to correct, to edit, to do over, to try again, to fix it until it’s flawless.

The tweet below is a somewhat ironic example of this. The story itself is great, but note the bottom line of the post: “Last edited…”

I completely empathize with the good Father, though. In case you didn’t know, I’m a prolific author of many books… but only three were ever published. Two of those were tiny children’s books from my more liberal days, self-published on Amazon. The third—a small collection of horror short stories—I first published and then retracted when I became a practicing Catholic because it somehow felt inappropriate.

Add to that the probably 10-12 unfinished manuscripts for books I wrote over the last decade or two, which are now collecting dust in my drawers and on my hard drive. A few of them are middle-grade fantasy novels that I want to touch up and still publish—”someday.”

Most of them were New Age-themed tomes that I’m now glad I never published because I’d have to explain—publicly and shamefully, like “Angel Communications” author Doreen Virtue after her conversion—what in the heck I was thinking when I wrote them in the first place.

Winston Churchill knew that “Perfectionism spells paralysis.” And author Anne Lamott stated,

Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.

I’ve come to recognize over the years that nothing in the world is perfect, except for God. And that’s how it should be. It took me a while to accept this as a good thing, but now I believe that perfectionism is a form of spiritual pride. It’s the belief that with enough effort, relying on our own strength, we can be as God and create something perfect.

When I lived in Sedona, an acquaintance who was a salesman for Persian rugs, told me an interesting story: Typically, rug making is a family business in the Middle East, and each family has a specific pattern that is very recognizable to experts. Every hand-knotted, expensive wool rug has a tiny flaw in it, put there by the artisan on purpose, to proclaim that outside of God, there is no perfection.

I found that very touching. Adding a small blemish as a love offering to the Father and a humble admission of our imperfect humanity—what a wonderful gesture that was. Sort of like a prayer without words.

I used to get hung up on Jesus’s demand that “You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48) It used to freak me out because there was no chance I could ever live up to that.

Today, I believe that none of us can be perfect on this side of the Great Divide, and it’s okay. I don’t believe VatiGod expects us to be perfect either; He just wants to see us try.

St. Therese of Lisieux said, “In the evening of life, I shall appear before you with empty hands, for I am not asking you, Lord, to count my works.”

She even welcomed not having great achievements because it would be all the more reason for the Lord to pour out His endless mercy on her.

At the end, we can be happy to say with 2 Timothy 4:7:

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

God bless you!

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