Last night, I found myself scrolling through Pretty Decent's Instagram feed. If there had been a microphone in my head at the time, I'm certain it would've picked up the rumblings of...
...well, to be frank, a hater.
"This looks like shit," I thought bitingly to myself.
Naturally, I then went and looked for all of the Instagram accounts in my industry who were clearly doing a much better job than me at branding. Their perfectly kerned text and color-coordinated feeds sneered at me from the other side of my phone.
I felt my body tense. I'm sure if I had done a scan at that moment, I would've noticed clenched shoulders, a tightened chest. One thing I know for certain: It didn't feel good.
Luckily, I caught myself before I archived my entire feed and decided to quit social media and give up on all of my hopes and dreams. As I decided to be intentional about my reaction, a single thought popped into my head:
I think about this concept a lot, especially because I am a huge proponent of beta testing knowledge products and services before investing valuable time and energy professionalizing them. But no matter how important I think it is to start testing our ideas quickly, I know firsthand how challenging it can be for people who struggle with perfectionism to accept the idea of "good enough" — especially when it comes to our work.
Let's be honest: I am perfectly fine with the idea of cutting corners. I am a proud and unashamed lazy person, and there are plenty of places where "good enough" is good enough for me. Cleaning, for example. Putting away laundry. I'm quick to throw together a social media post, think "Yeah that works" and share it, just to see what happens. I often write my newsletters an hour before I'm scheduled to send them, and over the years they've included plenty of run-on sentences and grammatical errors that probably would've disappeared had I spent a few more minutes editing.
There are a lot of factors that make me okay with "good enough," the most prominent being my guiding principles that everything is an experiment to be learned from.
But randomly, despite these high-minded ideals, I too find myself laying in the dark, staring into the light of an iPhone, critiquing myself for not being better — more organized, interesting, creative, clean.
When I first started Pretty Decent, it really bothered me that my slides always looked like crap. I remember buying thousand dollar programs and being stunned by the janky design of some of the materials — I hated the idea (a made up idea that I invented without evidence, of course) that my students might feel the same way.
If I scroll too long unintentionally on social media, I'm bound to run into a post from someone else doing something similar to me. It's hard, in those moments, not to compare. I often find myself becoming very critical of my own content, archiving and hiding posts I no longer deem worthy.
Oh, and relationships. Man, am I perfectionistic in those. I'm still reworking the parts of my brain that think the only way to be loved is to be exactly what other people need all of the time, without ever messing up.
In the world of CliftonStrengths, perfectionism is reframed as a strength — it's called being a Maximizer. From their website:
People exceptionally talented in the Maximizer theme focus on strengths as a way to stimulate personal and group excellence. They seek to transform something strong into something superb.
I love this perspective because it turns a creative block into something to be cherished. The challenge for maximizers, of course, is accepting that:
For me, this all comes down to accepting being in the messy middle — the space between where I started and where I want to be.
I am a dreamer, which means I have plenty of visions for what I want my life, work, and art to look like. I am also one person, working mostly alone with a bit more money than I had before but not quite enough money to hire a full-time team member to help out.
And just like reframing "Perfectionist" to "Maximizer" turned a closed door into an expansive window, it's possible for me to practice existing in the discomfort of being in-between without making it mean something about who I really am or what the value of my work is — even right now, when it's messy and disorganized and not quite as good as I know it could be.
What do you need to reframe? Come hang out in our Slack café and share your thoughts.
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