perfect

Being productive is a really big deal to me. I consciously and subconsciously gauge a day’s success by how many things I checked off my to-do list. Pair that with the fact that my brain is constantly coming up with new ideas and projects and “shoulds,” and I am on an ever-swinging pendulum between energy bursts that have me working until 3am and being on the couch all day, paralyzed by how insurmountable the to-do list feels. I’ve been struggling with and analyzing (and ignoring) this issue for years, but it has been on the forefront of my mind for the last few months. 

I recently had a major career shift. I went from being a classroom teacher, with the same schedule Monday thru Friday, to being a part-time stay-at-home-mom/part-time production manager at a local community theatre/part-time teaching artist with a schedule that changes day-to-day and is almost entirely reliant on my choices and discipline (or lack thereof). This change has been so good for me, but it has also been so frustrating. I had this grand idea of how I would cook breakfast everyday and go to the gym on days my tiny human went to school. I would be better at managing our finances and would be more intentional with my time with my husband and son. I would manage my time well and always be prepared for meetings and rehearsals. Well, it’s November, and I’ve been to the gym once, if that tells you anything about how well I’m managing that grand vision I had. 

I had a free audiobook credit—and by “free,” I mean that I forgot to cancel my Audible membership after the free trial ended, so I had a credit to use—and I chose a book called Finish by Jon Acuff. I was looking for some strategies to fix my productivity problems...but found introspection I wasn’t expecting instead. The basic premise (at least at the get-go...I’m still listening) is that our problem of being someone who is always starting projects and never finishing them isn’t an issue of not hustling hard enough but an issue of perfectionism.  At first I thought that sounded stupid. And then I realized how accurate it is. I get this grand idea of what I want to do, with detailed agendas and routines attached, and the moment I mess up, the moment the streak ends, I abandon the goal. Sometimes it’s conscious, like Weight Watchers and sometimes it’s not, like finishing a book I started. My greatest enemy isn’t laziness but the persistence of pursuing perfect.

There are a remarkable amount of books on my bookshelf that I have started and never finished. (More than that, so many that I have purchased and never even cracked open to the first page.) I will read a chapter every night before going to bed for two weeks, and then, for whatever reason, I miss a night of reading, and suddenly a month or year has passed and I realize I never finished the book. I had another free audiobook credit—nope, I forgot to cancel Audible AGAIN—so I downloaded Amy Poehler’s Yes, Please. This book was a piece I had been so, so excited about when it was first published, and I read (the first two-thirds of) it ravenously. As I listened to the prologue, I started feeling like it was exactly what I needed to hear right now...and then I remembered that that is exactly how I felt the last time. So how is it that I never finished it? I don’t think I am consciously not finishing books because of perfectionism, but I think it is an indication of how perfectionism has wired my brain. I am so afraid of failure that as soon as the perfect streak ends, I stop doing it. I have found myself in a cycle of getting so excited and so passionate about something that I dive in headfirst with all that I have for a few weeks or a few days or a few hours...and the moment I falter or the moment it seems like I might fail, the momentum dies. “Forgot to eat breakfast, might as well wait til tomorrow to have a good diet day...” turns into never starting the diet back up. If I can’t do it perfectly, it’s not worth doing...or so it seems to my brain. 

So what is the answer? Keep going. I didn’t say work harder or hustle more...just keep doing. To quote Amy Poehler, “The doing is the thing. The talking and worrying and thinking is not the thing. That is what I know. Writing the book is about writing the book.” It’s not about working harder or working better, but working even when you’re afraid it’s not going to be everything you imagine it could or should be. For example, I feel like I should have a more eloquent ending to this post, but this is all I have to say right now, so I’m clicking “publish.”