🧠 How I’m Unlearning Perfectionism (Slowly)

I used to think I wasn’t a perfectionist because nothing in my life looked perfect. But it turns out, that was the perfectionism. It kept me frozen—waiting to be ready, waiting for the right time, waiting to feel like I could do it “right.” And if I couldn’t do it perfectly, I just… didn’t do it.

Perfectionism isn’t always about high achievement. Sometimes, it’s about avoidance. It’s the fear of messing up. The fear of being seen before you’re fully formed. The pressure to make everything look effortless, when in reality, everything takes effort.

This is something I’ve been trying to unlearn. Slowly. Softly. With a lot of resistance and a little more grace than I used to give myself. I’m not trying to get rid of it all at once—I’m just trying to move forward anyway.

Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s imperfect. Even when it’s mine.

🧩 The Shape Perfectionism Took in My Life

Perfectionism doesn’t always look like color-coded planners and flawless makeup. Sometimes, it looks like never starting anything at all. It shows up as hesitation, fear, procrastination masked as “planning,” and projects that live in your head forever because they might not turn out how you imagined.

For me, perfectionism has been a constant background noise in my life. The belief that if I can’t do something perfectly, I shouldn’t do it at all. That I’m better off waiting until I have it all together—until my house is clean, my brain is focused, my to-do list is empty. Spoiler: that moment never comes.

Even this blog—something I’ve wanted to create for so long—got pushed aside again and again. Not because I didn’t care, but because I was scared. Scared of doing it wrong. Scared of being judged. Scared that people would read it and think, “what is she even doing?” or worse, that no one would care at all.

And the truth is, maybe some people do think that. But I’ve started to realize that if I keep living for other people’s imaginary opinions, I’ll never actually live for myself. I didn’t start this blog to be perfect—I started it to be honest. I started it because I wanted to create something soft and real and mine.

Letting go of that pressure has been a quiet revolution. Not all at once. Not cleanly. But slowly, gently. I’m learning that imperfect things are still beautiful. And more than that—they’re alive

🌱 What I’m Learning Instead

“Done is better than perfect” honestly got me through a lot—college, music school, late-night deadlines, performance days, all of it. It wasn’t about doing everything well, it was about doing it at all. And sometimes, that was the biggest win.

That mantra helped me survive in creative spaces where perfectionism can be loud and unforgiving. It helped me turn in essays when I hated them, share songs that weren’t quite “ready,” and move forward when I really wanted to shut down.

And it still helps—at least, in my personal work. But the truth is, “done is better than perfect” doesn’t always fit in a corporate setting. Not when there are processes, reviews, feedback loops, and systems that thrive on precision. Which is fine—I can meet expectations. I can do the job.

But what I’m trying really hard to do is not let that perfectionism bleed into the rest of my life. I don’t want the rigidity of work to reshape how I approach the things I actually love. My creative projects. My routines. My weird little blog. The things that make me feel like me.

I’m learning that in the parts of my life that matter most, I don’t need to be polished—I need to be present. I don’t need to impress anyone. I just need to keep showing up.

🔄 How I’m Practicing Imperfect Action

Unlearning perfectionism doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become great at doing things before I feel ready. I still hesitate. I still want things to be clean and complete and “worth it” before I let them out into the world. But I’m starting to practice the art of doing it anyway—messy, unfinished, and real.

Sometimes that looks like journaling with half-formed thoughts and barely legible handwriting, just to get it out of my head. Sometimes it’s writing a blog post without obsessing over every word. Sometimes it’s putting my Roomba on even when the floor probably needs to be swept first (dog hair, remember?).

I’ve been making art without a plan—just opening my sketchbook or iPad and letting whatever happens, happen. I don’t always love the results, but I love that I did it. That’s the part that matters.

I’m practicing cooking meals that aren’t Pinterest-worthy. Going to yoga even when I’m not in the mood. Sharing online without a strategy or aesthetic. Letting “good enough” actually be good enough.

These aren’t major breakthroughs. They’re small, quiet shifts. But they make a difference. And every time I choose action over avoidance, I take a step closer to the version of myself that isn’t ruled by fear or perfection—but by curiosity, softness, and intention.

🌙 Permission to Be a Mess in Progress

I’m not healed. I’m not consistent. I still procrastinate, still talk myself out of things, still stare at blank pages and unfinished drafts and half-folded laundry piles and feel like I’m not doing enough.

But I’m learning that progress isn’t linear—and it doesn’t have to be loud to be real. Sometimes it looks like showing up tired. Sometimes it looks like doing half the thing. Sometimes it looks like dancing in your kitchen with your headphones on and calling that success.

The biggest shift for me has been giving myself permission to be a mess in progress. To create without pressure. To move slowly. To not do things “right,” but to do them real.

And honestly? That’s where I feel most like myself.

This week’s mantra:
“I don’t need to be ready. I just need to be willing.”

Showing up messy still counts. Imperfect action still counts. You still count.