Progress Is Better Than Perfection

Does perfectionism stop you from living your best life?

Are you a perfectionist? I have been my whole life.

Throwing something that I don’t consider perfect out into the world is a very vulnerable act. What if people notice and laugh at us, or we lose credibility?

AI image by Substack

The fear of judgement

In the dog behaviour world, in particular, cancel culture is rife, and people who work with animals can be among some of the meanest people I’ve ever met. Emotions run high, and big egos are ten a penny. Different camps believe in different teaching methods, and all have extreme opinions on what should or should not be happening. If we say or do the wrong thing, it can go viral in milliseconds, and everyone has an opinion on everything we do. Luckily I have always been faithful to my ideals, keep to my ethics, and so far have managed to avoid a lot of bitchiness. But I am always paranoid that someone, somewhere, is judging.

As a writer, I feel the same way —I’m always on edge, and imposter syndrome leaves me looking for that comment that will tell me my grammar is off, that I rely too heavily on Grammarly, or that something else is amiss.

• So many other writers who all have a better mastery of words and language; why would anyone read what I have to say?

• There are so many people with more interesting tales to tell who have done bigger and better things. Why would anyone care about me and my experiences?

• So many people have a more enlightened view of things than me, so who would want to hear my thoughts?

“Who would want?” … “Why would anyone?” … These are ideas about what other people might think negatively about us. So, is perfectionism just a fear of rejection or being judged harshly?

I’m sure, in my case, it is.

The perfectionist side of the brain tells us we are doing everything wrong and that we should immediately withdraw what we have been doing from public view. But if we listen to the inner perfectionist, at what point will we ever become productive?

We have to learn not to let it hold us back.

Being vulnerable

While I do my best to only give advice on things I know about when it comes to dogs (to do otherwise could be dangerous), I also know that when I’m writing, I am putting myself out there for the world to see. If I don’t make myself vulnerable in that way, no dogparents will read my words, and my teaching will help fewer dogs.

I know a lot about dogs, so writing that newsletter is more straightforward. I stick to facts I can prove and my ethics, and I’m good to go. But what about middle-aged womanhood? Writing?

With Mum’s Midlife Crisis, I am REALLY opening myself up - and that is harder still.

I’m still learning as I go along, and I'm experiencing so many new things that I can’t possibly be an expert in anything related to my newsletter.

Women experience so many things, including having or not having a family, health, careers, love lives, hobbies, pets, friends, ethics, and beliefs, that there is no way on the planet we could write for anyone other than ourselves when it comes to womanly matters—unless, of course, we are an actual expert in something! We write and hope someone similar to us finds our words interesting.

I write about personal things in some instances, often things that others might not discuss openly. I don’t have the benefit of lots of medical education or experience to draw on. I do nothing but detail what I go through as it happens, hoping that reading my words will help someone else feel less alone.

Being vulnerable in this way is scary as hell. If people decide that Mum’s Midlife Crisis is lacking or not worth reading, it is on me.

If people decide we are not funny or likeable, it feels like it’s on us. If people reject us, we believe it’s because of our words and actions, which is terrifying.

We take it personally when others can see our imperfections.

Perfectionism stifles production

We often forget that many others feel this way. (PLUS - Do we really want to be friends with people who think they are excellent at everything?)

If we all gave in to feeling vulnerable and didn’t press “publish” anyway, how many wonderful writers would we miss out on reading?

Imagine if none of our favourite writers on here ever told their stories for fear of being laughed at. Imagine if we had never heard of Tolkien or Dickens because they worried their writing was not good enough or a bit too “out there.” What if the boys who wrote poetry from the trenches in the world wars had decided not to bother, lest they be ridiculed - imagine all those important and haunting words we would have missed out on?

Not for one moment am I suggesting that anything here will ever be as important towards the literary world as the above, but our words might help someone somewhere or make someone smile. If we never publish them because they are imperfect, then that reader would never have gained that perspective or that benefit.

Writing is an art, like any other creative pursuit. As writers, we are urged to create written works. By not doing so, we do ourselves a disservice. If we want to keep our words private, that is okay, too! But we should never fear producing content because of perfectionist traits that many others struggle with.

I’m curious to know. Who here feels like perfectionism stifles their production?

Good enough

I will admit that my writing is a bit of a mixed bag. I only got a “C” in GCSE English in 1996. I never went to college or university and have never had any formal education in writing.

Yet I have written books, ebooks, blogs, articles, and courses, taken higher-level diplomas with dissertations, and more. With some editing from Grammarly, they are good enough.

Good enough to get a point across. Good enough to teach some information. Good enough to help someone or to help someone feel something or do something. Good enough to get me qualifications.

Not perfect. Good enough. And that is all that is needed.

Today’s Sub Stats

I make a point each week of showing my sub stats for those who feel disheartened by seeing all the Substack Superstars with their thousands of readers. This time, I had a few extra subscribers because of this note about my dog.

This is what a normal Substack looks like:

Have a great week - and keep making progress over perfection.

Warm ‘n’ Fuzzies,

Freya x