Perfectionism and Mental Illness

I’ve always been told I was smart, talented…gifted. I taught myself how to read when I was 3 years old. I participated in the gifted program through elementary school, won regional spelling bees and math competitions, and was 1-2 years ahead in math all throughout my school career. I picked up my friend’s flute after school one day and within an afternoon had played through the entire 5th grade band curriculum with ease and skill. My teachers often paired me up with students who struggled academically because it kept me engaged to help my peers with concepts they weren’t yet grasping. I skipped a level of Spanish in high school and picked up on the grammar and vocabulary almost as if I already knew the language. Even though I didn’t study for the ACT and gave up at the beginning of the science section, I scored a 29 (side note: one of my biggest regrets is not taking the ACT again…I would have gotten more scholarship money with a higher score and thus would be paying less in student loans now - gah!!!). I worked hard in college and graduated from Hamline University with highest honors, one of only a small handful of students to achieve this. I graduated from my master’s program with a 4.0 and earned top marks on my comprehensive exams.

I remember feeling, all throughout my childhood, that I should be proud of myself…but I felt that because I had set the bar high right from the start, I was just doing what was expected of me. I felt that if I didn’t achieve at the highest level or wasn’t the best at something, that I failed. I became a perfectionist very early on in my life as a result, and consequently, lived with high levels of anxiety.

When I was in 10th grade, I was taking the hardest classes possible, including my first college level classes in science and social studies. When I wasn’t participating in my many extracurriculars, I was studying. I would stay up until the wee hours of the morning, trying to make sure I knew everything about European History and chemistry. I slept 5-6 hours at night - and I’m someone who has always thrived off 8-10 hours of sleep. I was earning excellent grades, but emotionally I was falling apart. I was stressed constantly, I cried all the time, I coped very poorly if I didn’t get an A on a test or paper because anything less than an A meant failure.

My parents and I had a talk after the first quarter of the school year. I can’t remember if they initiated the conversation or if I did, but we decided it was best for my mental health if I dropped one of my college level classes. We talked with my teacher about it, who was disappointed because I had one of the top grades in the class, but when we explained how it was affecting my mental health, she understood. I was able to drop the class without penalty and wound up taking the “regular” level of social studies for my 11th grade year, which I also did for science. I had the talent and capability of excelling, but my mental health was suffering so much that it wasn’t worth it. I stayed in the top levels of math and English, my two favorite subjects, throughout high school. The balance was healthy for me, and I wound up taking a college-level social studies class again during my senior year and earning the top score on the AP test to received college credit.

However, I felt very ashamed at times. I had gone through school with the same group of kids who also took all the most challenging and rigorous classes. When I dropped down a level in social studies and science, I maintained my mental health but I lost friends. It was lonely - there was a level of cliqueiness amongst that group and to be not fully immersed in it…I just felt rejected. I felt insecure because I knew I was capable of taking all of the hard classes but I had such a perfectionist mindset at the time that it would have been unhealthy…but I was so ashamed of my mental health struggles that I couldn’t explain this to my friends. I withdrew (mostly out of a combination of bitterness and shame) and found comfort in other groups of students. Up until this time, my peer group had revolved around students I spent most of my time with, students in the highest levels of classes. Now, I didn’t have that identity anymore and I wasn’t a part of the group anymore. I was very hard on myself for that. I felt like maybe I had gotten stupid when everyone else was getting smarter, and that made me “less than.”

It’s uncomfortable thinking about this and writing it, to be honest. However, as I have grown older and wiser, I have been able to process all of this better. I do not consider myself to be a perfectionist anymore; and thank goodness, as perfectionism is not something to be proud of. It quite literally could have ruined my life had I not learned to let go. Although I’m not a student anymore and don’t get graded on things, I still struggle with the idea of failure: in my former marriage, in my living situation, in my family, in my work. I still struggle with the pressure of being a (recovering) perfectionist.

Taking a leave of absence from work last school year because of my mental illness left me with huge levels of shame. Here I was, presenting “perfectly” as always and as expected, and I was falling apart. I felt like if I had to show up to work, to family gatherings, to a party, to life in general, I was going to implode. I took drastic measures to improve my mental health, but it came at a huge expense: it damaged formerly strong relationships with colleagues, it led to a pay cut, it made me feel like I let people down all around me because I couldn’t engage with others like I wanted to because I physically and emotionally couldn’t. All last school year, I felt like a massive failure…which was made worse because I was primarily focused on improving my mental health so that I didn’t have those feelings anymore!

I’ll touch more on this in another blog post…but I’m doing well now. I’ve learned so much about myself, how to be confident, how to feel good about myself outside of my achievements and “gifts,” how to identify and nurture positive relationships and shamelessly let go of toxic or unhealthy ones, and how to handle my mental illnesses. I’m trying to be proud of myself for who I am now, and not be hard on myself for who I am not. I’m not sure if the perfectionist voice will ever fully leave me, but I’m learning to quiet her so that she stops telling me that my worth is contingent on my achievements and accomplishments.

To all of my fellow perfectionists - those recovering or those in the throes of it currently - I hope that you know that you are enough just as you are. Stop letting that inner voice dictate whether you get to be happy or not. Do what makes you feel joy and fulfillment, even if you’re not the best. Being the best is not what life is about; let go of that false messaging your brain is telling you. Show up to life in whatever state you’re in…those who love you will love you regardless. Just show up.