In September of my senior year of high school, I found myself loitering outside the locker rooms before field hockey practice when a friend and fellow athlete decided to share something with me. “I was going to vote for you for homecoming queen,” he confessed, “but, you know, you win everything. I thought I should give someone else a chance.” It wasn’t meant to be malicious, and I didn’t take it that way. Perhaps, there was some truth to it. They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Fast forward twenty-five years later, I asked my third daughter why she wanted to quit ballet for swimming. With the innocence of a 6-year-old, she responded, “Because you can’t win at ballet.” Striving for excellence and doing well is commendable. However, the belief that everything, including ourselves, has to be flawless is not only tiresome but unattainable, suffocating, and potentially debilitating. For me, perfectionism ultimately served as a distraction.
On the surface, my childhood seemed idyllic. My father was an exceptional trial lawyer, and my mother was beautiful, hardworking, and kind. We resided in a grand house atop a hill, had our horses to ride, and played tennis at the club. Oh, and my father was also an alcoholic with paranoia and bipolar disorder. My mother was overwhelmed and frightened. Chaos defined our family life.
Throughout my upbringing, I quickly learned that expressing my emotions and needs didn’t yield much of a response, so I learned to suppress them. Instead, excelling and always doing everything right became my ticket to feeling worthy. Consistently earning straight As, becoming captain of various teams, and being elected class president became paramount. Being the “good girl” was critical.
With every moment of accomplishment, the association between perfection and happiness only became stronger. Anything less, I believed, meant disappointment, pain, and shame.
When I received news of my father’s suicide many years later, I shrugged it off and sought comfort in the delicious food that people were leaving at our house. I had learned that my feelings didn’t matter.
As an adult, my husband and I had four daughters within five years. I was surprised to discover that my own pursuit of success presented unexpected challenges when it came to raising my children. Finding a balance between support and allowing my girls to develop their own self-worth and resilience was a struggle.
I still remember the moments of pride when my girls confidently walked onto the stage of the auditorium, their faces radiating with pride as they received their medals alongside their equally dedicated classmates. I attached an overwhelming amount of importance to their achievements. When we are too consumed with success and afraid of failure or uncomfortable with our emotions, we convince ourselves that our children’s accomplishments guarantee self-esteem and confidence.
While my bursts of pride were genuine, I also experienced my girls’ achievements as reflections of my own self-worth. I felt fine when everything was going smoothly – which, to me, meant my kids were succeeding.
Then, suddenly, life became a bit more turbulent for one of my daughters. Not only did I feel her pain, but there were no inexpensive medals hanging from colorful ribbons to validate my own self-worth. With fewer As, medals, and praises from teachers, panic set in. What if she never succeeds? I’m losing control – isn’t it my job as a parent to ensure her success?
I lectured her endlessly on the importance of school (as if she didn’t already know), “assisted” her with homework (by mostly doing it myself), and even hired tutors (two, to be exact). I spoke with her teachers, her academic advisor, her principal – anyone who would lend an ear! When things didn’t improve, my husband and I wrote letters and considered switching schools. I was convinced that “success” was the key to her self-esteem, confidence, and well-being. If she wasn’t achieving, excelling, or winning, how else would she feel good about herself? And wasn’t it my responsibility to alleviate the anxiety caused by this situation?
Wrong. Research shows that high levels of parental control consistently predict anxiety in children. Unintentionally, I was conveying that I didn’t believe in her ability to handle tough situations or manage her emotions. I didn’t believe in her – simple as that.
While I loved the accolades and successes, I realized that I may be passing on my own anxieties, harsh self-criticism, and constant feeling of not being good enough to my daughters. It was time to wake up. Overcoming perfectionism required effort, but I first needed to understand the impact of my actions on my children.
Unfortunately, it seems that perfectionism is inheritable. We are rich in shame and lacking in self-compassion, and our children absorb our actions more than our words. Therefore, modeling acceptance, self-compassion, and embracing both successes and failures – for ourselves and our children – is one of the simplest ways to equip them with the resilience and strength to do the same. Small steps, like embracing challenges, facing uneasy situations, and openly admitting mistakes, can make a tremendous difference. By breaking free from the grips of perfectionism, we not only liberate ourselves but also empower our children to navigate life with self-assurance and welcome the valuable lessons that imperfection brings.
I gradually learned this lesson. Later, when one of my daughters came to me upset that her new coach didn’t seem to like her, my initial reaction was to jump in. I needed to do something! It would ruin her season! She wouldn’t make varsity! She’d be miserable! However, instead of rushing to her aid, I listened. I empathized. I became curious. I allowed her to feel her emotions and assess her own problem, only contributing my belief that she had grasped the situation. Life isn’t always fair, and sometimes we encounter teachers, coaches, or bosses who don’t like us. When the timing was right, I offered some suggestions about taking the high road for the sake of the team. My unwavering faith in her acted as a guiding light, illuminating her strength and resilience. For all of us, especially children in their formative years, the questions remain the same: Am I important to you? Do you need me? Do you want me? Am I safe?
I know from personal experience that the pursuit of perfection can be relentless and draining. By choosing to celebrate every step of the journey, we communicate to our children that they are cherished simply for being who they are. We assure them that they are safe with us not because they strive for perfection, but because of their imperfections.
Mary Willcox Smith, the author of “Small Moments, Big Impact: The MicroStep Method for the Overwhelmed Parent,” emphasizes the importance of modeling acceptance and self-compassion in our parenting journey.
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