For as long as I can remember, I have been a staunch perfectionist. I don’t mean this as a gimmick, or as a quirky response that I can pose in a job interview to the question “What is your biggest weakness”, in the hopes that the interviewer will bank on exactly that as a prime characteristic to fill the job with the right candidate (it never is by the way, you might want to come up with something more authentic).
My fear of failure, or falling anything short of perfection, has wedged itself into every facet of my life. From work to academics to my personal life, my fear of failure has had debilitating consequences. In many instances, I’ve relegated myself to not even trying because the sheer possibility of trying and failing feels more overwhelming than simply not trying at all.
It would be naïve to pinpoint any one specific event or circumstance that imbued this way of thinking within my character. Instead, I see it more like tiny puzzle pieces of different occurrences and norms that all fit together to form a cohesive picture that now forms a core belief. Any kid growing up in Asia or in an Asian household is well-versed with the idea of perfection. Asian school systems often teach you not that you should celebrate getting a 98 out of 100, but question why you missed out on the two points. As a member of Gen Z who grew up alongside the rise of social media, avoiding the feelings of being behind and not being perfect has been almost impossible; At 22 years old, platforms like Instagram continually remind me that I could be traveling the world or getting engaged, yet I’m doing neither of those. Don’t even get me started on LinkedIn, which in my humble opinion, while a great career resource, is horrific for a twenty-somethings mental health. The world around me seems resolved to constantly remind me that no matter how much I do, there’s more to be done and better ways to do it.
As I inch toward graduation in four short months, I am reflecting on how the past four years have shaped the overall trajectory of my life. As with anything in life, this experience has positively impacted my life in so many ways, but I can’t help feeling like I missed out on so much. I’ve often taken a personal stance that when I do something, I should get it right the first time. Making a new friend? Make sure they’re the right one, and make sure you do everything right so they like you. Taking a new class that’s known to be particularly hard? Well, since you know it’s hard, work harder to get an A. Starting a new internship? Don’t mess up, or you won’t get a full-time offer.
It feels like everything comes with high stakes. One wrong mistake could entirely mess up the course of my life. This thought leaves no room to make any mistakes. If I don’t get ahead, I’m setting myself up to fall behind.
As a result, I never did a study abroad program because I was scared of how it would affect my ability to graduate on time. I rushed my sorority only in my Junior year because I didn’t feel confident enough in my Freshman and Sophomore years. I chickened out of multiple networking opportunities out of fear that I would say the wrong thing or not leave the right impression.
Therein lies the problem – getting it right the first time. In all of human history, there are rarely people who have hit the bullseye on the very first attempt. Even the most prolific people started off weak and built their way up. Why should I be any different?
This year, I want to commit to showing up imperfectly. Allowing myself the risk of making a mistake, no matter how abhorrent the consequences may feel. Not letting my overthinking mind rule over my desires and ridicule my desires to dream bigger and more optimistically. Yes, mistakes happen, and sometimes have severe consequences. But mistakes are also a natural occurrence in life, especially since this is my first and last time living it (don’t know if I particularly believe in an afterlife but that remains to be seen).
As cheesy as it may sound, I truly only have this one life. This life is sliced up into smaller fragments defined by our decades, and those pass by even quicker than the overall course of our lives. There are things I wished I could have done in my teens that now feel like the time has passed. There will be more moments like these as I grow older and if I allow my fear of failure to dominate every action, I might miss out on the bad, but also the good.
I’ll try, I’ll fail, I’ll try again. There’s nothing wrong with imperfection, only with the view that it is inherently wrong or fearsome. Some of the best memories I have or the best people I’ve met have been by accident. As much as the world around me and the voice in my head trying to convince me that there is so much that can go south, I think it’s worth proving that mistakes possess their own merits. I won’t know unless I try, will I?