I'm Not a Perfectionist. I Just Have Unrealistically High Expectations of Myself.

Exploring what it means to be imperfectly perfect.

Photo by Alex Motoc on Unsplash

I wouldn’t call myself a perfectionist. I’m too smart for that. Instead, I’m subject to other forms of subterfuge that create an illusion of being above such childish traps like perfectionism.

Perfectionism is an unreal ideal built on the approval and perceived judgments of others. There's no point in clamoring after something that is unobtainable.

So to save myself from the Sisyphean task of chasing perfection, I adjusted the bar — slightly.

Aspirational Jeff vs Actual Jeff

I expect a lot from Jeff. He’s a hard worker. He’s a kindhearted guy and a deep thinker. He’s a good friend, loyal and caring. He’s also a bit eccentric, living on “Planet Jeff”, which happens to have no TV, lots of exercise equipment, plenty of cruciferous vegetables, and places to hang, tumble, roll, and stretch but no chairs. Hammocks, yes. Chairs, no.

I speak in the third person as an experiment in seeing myself from the viewpoint of my expectations. What I’m learning to see is not the Jeff that exists in material form today, but Jeff that exists aspirationally in my thoughts and in the minds of others — Jeff in formation.

This version of Jeff is pretty polished. His imperfections are held carefully at bay from the public eye. He has a calm, cool, and collected demeanor. The sort of, “I’ve got my shit together so don’t worry about me,” kind of vibe. It’s a quiet hubris or a humblebrag of maturity. Probably both.

This Jeff would never shout it out, but he has unrealistically high expectations for himself. So high that he may as well be damn near perfect. (Shit.)

This Jeff is extremely particular, at times rigid and controlling. He lives in ideals, especially around things related to his body: food, exercise, sleep and the like. He knows what’s theoretically possible and sets that as the bar to live up to. When he fails, no one would necessarily know. But he knows. And it hurts.

Expectations Vs Judgements

I recognize my expectations set up a trap. No matter who I become, there will always be an aspirational Jeff that is better, wiser, and more mature. This Jeff lurks in the projections of my mind, always in the near-future but never close enough to touch.

The fact that this Jeff exists is not the problem. High expectations create a container to elicit my latent potential. They’re an invitation to rise to the challenge and step more fully into who I can become. I believe in setting the bar high. The caveat is that I must also be nice to myself when I trip over the bar and face-plant.