Perfectionism isn't high standards

When I was nine, I started building a model covered wagon. It was an extra-credit project for the Oregon Trail segment at school, and dammit, I was going to nail it. I got my dad to help me cut long sticks into small wooden pieces, which I carefully glued together into perfect slats. I used dowels for axles, cut a longer stick for the hitch, and made little wheels out of random materials I found in the garage.

All that was left was the top of the wagon: a bit of canvas stretched over a hooped wooden frame. No problem.

Except… I couldn’t get the hoops to look right. They weren’t bendy enough. They didn’t want to stay affixed to the sides of the wagon. They were too misshapen, flimsy, floppy. 

Over and over, I tried to make it look like the picture I had in my head. Over and over, I cringed at my result. 

So, I abandoned it. And that mostly finished covered wagon—or, more accurately, uncovered wagon—sat in my room for years. 

That wasn’t the first time my perfectionism won, and it certainly wasn’t the last. But it’s the one I remember most clearly: the frustration, the sense of insufficiency, the shame I felt every time I saw it taunting me from my bookshelf. 

It was just some extra-credit project. Who cares? Why couldn’t I just turn it in?

What was wrong with me? 

Turns out, there was nothing wrong with me. I was doing exactly what I’d been trained to do, growing up in a home with a parent who always seemed able to find fault. I wanted to avoid criticism.  

I wanted to be worthy—of praise, of acceptance, of love. 

But perfectionism couldn’t actually give me those things. There was no bar I could have magically hit that would have resulted in me being told that I was good enough. 

All it gave me was more perfectionism. 

It took me decades to see that, though. And until I did, perfectionism showed up everywhere. At work, I’d spend ungodly hours on projects no one even cared about that much. I’d skip applying to things because I was afraid of being rejected. I’d try to avoid any detail ever slipping through the cracks—and wind up being way too controlling as a result. 

Perhaps most of all, it showed up when I hit a whole bunch of big professional goals—published books, conference keynotes, juicy consulting projects—and instead of feeling proud, or satisfied, or happy, I felt… deflated. 

That talk should have been smoother.  
This book should have sold more copies.   
My business should have been more profitable last year.  

You might not relate to those specific thoughts—but I bet some of you relate to the feelings underneath them. Because perfectionism comes up constantly in coaching sessions. It’s always a big theme in Power Shift. Hell, last week I wrote a bit about it on LinkedIn and got dozens of comments.

It’s also one of the themes that Paul Hewitt, a psychologist and researcher who focuses on perfectionism, talked to the New Yorker about in a recent article: 

Read that again: Reaching the goal never helps. 

Except, we convince ourselves, maybe this time it will??? Maybe this is the goal—the GPA, the promotion, the salary—that will tell me I’ve made it. Maybe this is the one that’ll finally make me feel accomplished. Secure. Accepted. 

I often hear clients paint this as a positive. “I’m a bit of a perfectionist,” they’ll say. “I never think anything is good enough. But isn’t it a good thing to try for excellence?” 

In fact, framing perfectionism as a positive is so common, that same New Yorker piece even jokes about it—calling it “the kind of thing savvy job applicants say when asked their greatest flaw.” 

But what I have learned is that high standards and perfectionism aren’t the same thing—and in fact, they’re often at odds with each other. Having high standards for your work puts the focus on quality—it’s about creating something valuable. But perfectionism actually isn’t focused on what you’re creating at all. It’s focused on yourself. It’s the constant pursuit of feeling valuable as a human.

But the truth is, there’s no bar you can hit with your work that will make you feel worthy as a person. 

Trust me, I know a lot of people who’ve tried. Including myself. 

According to that New Yorker story, it’s so hard to break out of this mindset that even when perfectionists go to therapy, they often find themselves attempting to be perfect at fixing their perfectionism. I guess it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who’s tried to get a good grade in therapy (canonically both normal to want and possible to achieve).  

But the other researcher profiled in that article—Paul Hewitt’s longtime collaborator, Gordon Flett—has spent the past decade researching one specific antidote: feeling like you matter.

That’s why perfectionism never works: it’s an unconscious attempt to gain significance by being perfect. But perfection doesn’t actually make us significant to others. Presence does: “the flawed, messy unrepeatability that we crave in others and want others to witness in us.” 

Of course this is true—just think about all the people who matter most to you. The one you’ve stayed up all night laughing with, the ones who really get you, the ones who’ve made you feel most loved. Odds are that when you think of those people, you’re not thinking about whether they had pristine apartments or impeccable wardrobes or impressive salaries. You’re thinking about how they make you feel. You’re thinking about their oddball senses of humor, their small kindnesses, their warm hugs.

Mattering to others isn’t fully in our control, but there are things we can do to cultivate a greater sense of mattering in our lives. And none of those things are about being perfect at work. They’re actually much simpler: listening when someone is struggling. Giving our time to a cause that means something to us. Being part of something—community groups, teams, clubs. 

In fact, odds are high that you already do matter to people—to family, to friends, to your team. You might just struggle to feel like you matter—to internalize that knowledge, to trust it, to believe it day to day. 

If that’s you, know that you’re not alone. But also know that it doesn’t have to always feel this way. It’s possible to feel like you matter. 

You won’t get there by chasing perfection—beating yourself up and abandoning anything you can’t get right the first time. You won’t get there by building your sense of self-worth on the shaky ground of capitalism—on raises and titles and praise for working yourself till you collapse. 

You’ll get there by staying connected to who and what you actually care about—and showing up for those people and causes. You’ll get there when you let yourself be imperfect at something—and learn to trust that the people who truly care about you will still accept you. 

I’m still working on that. Maybe I always will be. But it gets easier all the time. I hope it does for you, too. 

This fall at Active Voice  

Flagship program: Power Shift 
Tuesdays starting September 16
You’ve tried people-pleasing, “proving your value,” and putting yourself last. If you’re ready for something else, Power Shift is ready for you. This is our flagship 9-week program all about building self-trust, confidence, and a sense of agency—even in chaos. Registration closes Friday, September 12.

Workshop: Protect yourself from ADHD burnout 
October 17 
Bring yourself back from the brink by working with—not against—your brain. Join this workshop led by Jen and our friend Melissa Rogel, LMFT. Registration is open now!

Conference: Button 2025 
October 22-24
Join us at content design’s big virtual conference! We’ll be hosting free speed coaching sessions just for attendees. Save $100 on an individual pass with the code AV100.