I only have memories of feeling like I needed to be perfect.
Maybe it’s from being an athlete since birth, where your worth is constantly measured by clear wins, losses, and a metric you are expected to beat. Or maybe it’s just the baseline tax of being a woman in a society that places entirely unrealistic, contradictory expectations on us at every single turn.
Whatever the root cause, for as long as I can remember, my entire life has been weighed down by a heavy, quiet sense of shame for simply not being perfect.
And let’s be honest: not only is carrying that expectation absolutely exhausting, it’s completely unrealistic.
In fact, the older I get, the more I realize that perfection is actually incredibly boring. Perfection doesn’t innovate. It doesn’t laugh at itself. I’d dare to say that not being perfect is a hell of a lot more interesting—and ultimately, a hell of a lot more successful.
As I’m getting older, I’m working really hard on shifting the goalposts. I am focusing less on perfection and much more on the actual experience. I am learning how to be messier, without offering a defensive apology for just being human.
I don’t aim to be the best at everything anymore. Instead, I aim to learn, to grow, and to actually have some fun along the way.
But look—while that is a beautiful sentiment to type out on a screen, I can openly admit that unlearning a lifetime of hyper vigilance is still a daily, tough battle. The programming runs incredibly deep. I am still my own harshest critic—and not in a casual, "LOL" kind of way, but in a serious, "thank God she’s in therapy" kind of way.
It takes constant, conscious effort to stop my brain from defaulting to hyper control when things get outside of my neatly organized comfort zone.
If I could pass on a single piece of hard won wisdom to anyone reading this who recognizes themselves in my words, it’s this: Learn to drop the weight sooner.
Don't wait until a crisis, a burnout, or a major life shift forces your hand. Do it now.
We waste years keeping our guards up, terrified that if people see our rough edges, our mistakes, or the moments we don't have it all together, we will somehow be "less than." We look at curated highlight reels and assume everyone else has cracked the code to a spotless life. It’s a collective lie we all participate in, and it's stealing our joy.
The most incredible, fulfilling parts of life—the real successes, the deep connections, the genuine fun—are not built on a flawless track record. They are built in the messy middle by people who are brave enough to drop their armor, get out of their own way, and choose growth over control.
Be kind to yourself. Hold yourself to high standards, absolutely, but stop letting your own demand for perfection block you from the beautiful, gritty, interesting reality of the life you're actually living right now. Learn it sooner than I did: you don't have to be perfect to be extraordinary.