I've always been a perfectionist.
When I was younger, this trait was applauded, as my constant striving for the optimal result forced me to exceed expectations in any aspect of my life I could control. But, as time went on, it left me paralyzed. I would stand at the starting line and never let my foot fall on the other side because I couldn’t predict a perfect finish. This pattern went on for years, and slowly my world grew smaller and smaller.
It wasn’t until I started designing over 30 years ago that I was forced to confront this fear head-on as I became acquainted with the design process.
The design process is not for the faint of heart, and it is most definitely not a comfortable journey to embark on if constant perfection is your goal. It’s a messy process, a winding road that forces you to lean into the discomfort of maneuvering around a bend without knowing what is on the other side. It runs you through the whole gamut of emotions, from excitement to dread, from feeling secure to lost in a matter of moments.
When I first began, I spent many days sitting behind my desk with my head in my hands, trying to keep my eyes from watering as I stared, completely overwhelmed, at a blank slate. I would spend hours trying to identify the “perfect” first step that would minimize failure and make the entire process more comfortable. I started project after project this way until I slowly realized that I had been approaching it all wrong. The only way to get comfortable was to make a decision, with no idea if it was the “right” one, and just work from there.
It feels akin to what I imagine skydiving feels like — the first idea, the leap into the free fall, and every idea after that a parachute that eventually leads you to a safe landing.
Throughout this time, I also discovered a love for antiques. Rather than being drawn towards the refurbished cabinets with a fresh coat of untainted paint and sparkly new hardware, I found myself enthralled by pieces that looked their age — cracked leather couches, scratched tables, and quirky clocks. As time went on, I started to apply this love of imperfections to myself, seeking out my perceived flaws and attempting to admire them in the same way I admired a storied scratch.
Throughout my career, I’ve learned a lot. I know how to arrange a living room to feel cozy, the ideal height for a dining room table, and how to pair patterns. I’ve also learned that perfection should never be the end goal because it doesn’t exist in the terms we apply to the idea. The process is perfect because it is a journey, it’s perfect for all the reasons we believe it is not. It’s a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs, one that is full of unexpected beauty that allows for much more joy in the end.
What is a lesson you’ve learned from an unexpected teacher? I would love to hear about them in the comments.
xx
Brooke
I can so relate to perfection! I've lost sleep and worried for many years until now it's what I love and nothing else matters!! I think we are raised to be perfectionist and that's not good ..
Super!***
I understand your feeling of being overwhelmed in where to start and wanting the pieces to all fall into perfect harmony. I was the same way with starting a writing project and it always felt overwhelming & daunting to start. It wasn’t until my son said “Mom just start with one idea and start developing the story from there. He said I could always change it around later if I didn’t like the flow.” That was such a freeing thought and once I realized the details could be rearranged after I got started it took away the fear and hesitation of starting. We just completed a renovation of a 58 year old family lake cabin on a limited bu…
I know it sounds cliché, but this is all been a journey for all of us I think what you’ve done is you’ve opened up the thought that a mistake is not a mistake and taking the first step is the hardest… I have never considered myself having the talent of design, but recently have remodeled and built a home from scratch and learned many things is about having the things you love around you, whether their weathered and torn… They have a history… Now I have friends walk into my home and say gee I wish I had your talent and I laugh to myself and say it’s been a journey and lots of mistakes have happened, but t…
Hi Brooke, what a relief to know this paralyzing feeling/tendancy isnt just me Thank you readers too for your stories and antidotes- super helpful Love this forum! Thank you B for your raw honesty! Yup this can be quite sneaky and debilitating- when im overwhelmed i put on my boots with snacks in tow and plop a chair right in the middle of the chickens -the joy they bring pops me right out of a funk- hearing my laughter snaps me right out of it- my head is clearer- my frustration disolves and i can begin again. A hot bath works nicely too with Bach gently playing in the distance. Happy day to everyone!