Perfectionism is a Vampire

Authenticity is courage in practice. It means stepping into vulnerability, facing fears, and living true to oneself. I’m deeply called to try.

It’s extraordinarily frustrating to feel like a failure. My failure story is in a toxic attachment dance with my impossibly high and rigid expectation of success. The destructive pattern loops in my prefrontal cortex and I feel a dense and dull sensation pushing at my temples. 

When I’m stuck at expectation station, I have little capacity to take steps toward my visionary self—my energy misfires instead, wasted on berating myself for not becoming this perfected version I’ve somehow come to believe is the socially praised ideal. Perfectionism is such a vampire, draining me of my most precious resource. My body becomes heavy and numb as I observe life from behind peripheral-less eyes. I watch myself struggle not to take same highway exit for the 900th time, and though a small voice in my head says, "Come on, Jess, you know another route by now. Are you sure you want to take that exit?’ the louder, villainous part is pushing hard to grab the wheel and steer me in the direction of societal least resistance, an American norm: push through with all your effort to achieve greatness.

Not long ago, a psychologist told me that my defiant 12-year-old is driving the bus more often than I realize, and my response was basically, "Fuck you, no she’s not." I tried to sleep it off for a while. Sleeping is a foolproof salve against myself. But eventually, I had to wake up, and the heat of anger melted into tears as I realized he was not wrong. I think it takes humility to accept that it's time to change your approach to your way of relating to yourself and thus the world.

But it takes more than humility and self-awareness to change a pattern. It also takes stamina to actually move toward the weight of the unknown’s inertia. It’s like swimming upstream while attempting a stroke you haven’t even trained in. People say flippantly, “Just do the opposite of what you normally do.” Yes, of course, do the opposite thing, take the road less traveled—but I also need a safe, compassionate space to fall as I try, and try again. It takes considerable coordination to first locate the muscles that initiate movement in a new direction, and then dedication and resilience to keep flexing newfound muscles. It's most difficult in the beginning.

In a culture that celebrates outer achievements—marriage, career advancement, procreation—I’m here to advocate for those who swim upstream, confronting inner fears and listening to the heart’s whispers, even without knowing what they’ll uncover. I’m rooting for the ones who exhale in the space of giant question marks, defying the ‘get your shit together’ pressure.

I yearn to see more people encouraging one another to explore non-linear, intuitive paths. It's supremely powerful when someone I love tells me that they trust my choices, especially when my decisions aren't based on mainstream rational (more of this, please). I want to spread encouragement that embracing not-knowing is a superpower, not a lack of purpose or direction. There's a quote by Joseph Campbell that I love, "If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s."

I'm hungry to hear daily hero stories—how do you and those around you honor the quiet, inner calling that inevitably leads to transformation? How do you celebrate your promotions of the soul?

Inner work, though invisible, requires as much bravery and dedication as any public accomplishment.

I write this because it's the wisdom I need to hear. It’s not that misery loves company; it’s that authenticity begets love.