Overcoming perfectionism

I can still remember the day I first went to my psychologist’s office for my first counseling session. I was feeling anxious. My brain had been overthinking for the last few months leading up to my counseling. I couldn’t sleep at night. I ruminated. I was agitated almost all the time. I poured all my frustrations to my trusted counselor, all in 50 minutes. And the first thing that she told me was most of my anxiety and other issues stem from my tendency to be a perfectionist.

"Perfectionism, in psychology, is a personality trait characterized by a person's striving for flawlessness and setting high-performance standards, accompanied by critical self-evaluations and concerns regarding others' evaluations."

My counselor described it as an overbearing mother who pushes me to be the best version of myself thinking that it’s for my own good. I benefit from my perfectionism by producing high-quality outputs, having very high attention to detail, and by actually reaching this point – the Ph.D. But like any overbearing mother (don’t shoot me), at some point, it becomes just that – overbearing. For the past year that I’ve been going for counseling, I always had some new struggles to share and every single one of it stems from my perfectionism. I try new approaches to at least manage it to a healthy level like practicing self-compassion and mindfulness. Some weeks, I succeed, some days I fail. 70% of the time, those failures were triggered by social media. That fucking Instagram.

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I am part of the social media generation. My opinion on how it affected my personality is real inasmuch as I grew up with its progression. I was eleven when I first connected my Windows 2000 computer to the World Wide Web with a prepaid card, fourteen when I joined MySpace and Friendster, seventeen when I started blogging in Multiply. 2009 was when I finally didn’t have to cheat my birthday to join Facebook, and I was twenty when my inner artsy was awakened by Instagram. My generation joined the advent of these media-sharing platforms that aimed to “share lives and connect people”. It did the job. Moving out of the country at twenty-four, I will always be thankful for smartphones and online group chats for keeping my friendships and sanity intact in the process. But it seems like humans have a knack for exploiting everything that is harmless as they turned all these platforms as instruments to either 1) manipulate, 2) generate money, 3) promote perfection or 4) witch-hunt. Finally, at twenty-seven, I had a burnout from all of it. 

As an individual who started using social media to decompress from the real world, I became affected by how they are turning out to be manipulative and, in the end, transforming me. As a young woman earning a salary and wanting to improve myself, I got so excited by internet accounts with almost-perfect lives online. I got so obsessed with their perfect skin while wearing no makeup as per their captions. My perception of a beautiful and empowered woman changed by seeing these busy, career-oriented women purportedly juggling multiple roles in life flawlessly. Fresh out from a long-haul flight yet not a hair out of place, not a single pimple in sight, and still brimming with grace in their allegedly candid pictures. New mothers holding their firstborns, all looking like they came from a salon, not the delivery room. I followed most of them. A few years later, more and more perfect-looking women sprouted like mushrooms on Instagram. More and more twenty-something women joining the New York Fashion Week, with enviable clothes and magazine-worthy photos, when I couldn’t even afford one of their tiny bags. My curiosity turned to envy. I looked in the mirror and my inner monologue kept telling that my whole life needed to be more like them -- more graceful, more filtered, busier, prettier, and every bit of "more". So when life took a toll on my physical and mental health, aka all mental and skin issues from hell broke loose in Australia, I finally woke up to my senses. Social media is manipulating my perceptions. My life was okay. I didn’t need the harmful comparisons with these strangers. Social media is feeding my perfectionism.

These are real struggles of the social media generation. A pre-millennial can brush it off and offer the best solution: quit social media. By now, we can all agree that it is impossible. Until some miracle happens that would start the Great Internet Downfall, I don’t think I can ever quit. I have long accepted that I need to manage my perfectionism, stay online and shield myself from social media manipulations all at the same time. So I un-followed people that plant unkind thoughts. I regulate my internet consumption (or at least try to). I practice self-compassion. More importantly, I hope I won’t be any more complicit in portraying my life perfectly when it isn’t. I regret that my young, show-off and immature-self used social media as a highlight reel too many times. 

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One of my newfound hobbies is people-watching. I see people of all ages, genders, and shapes walking past me. It's amazing how these people are oblivious to my presence as much as I am hyperaware of mine. Sure I may catch a pair of eyes or two, exchange some friendly smiles, but they don’t spend more than a split second, moreover scan me from head to toe, and count how many zits I have on my face. I see strangers, coworkers, and friends who have their own insecurities too. Imperfections. Dissatisfaction. But unless they point out some mole on their face that they are bothered about, or unless they speak about their struggle in speaking English, I will never notice a thing at all. I see them as humans with their own individualities. I realized that even I, a perfectionist individual with high attention to detail, don’t even see imperfections when I look at people – so then why do I have to do that to myself?

Day 11: Favorite TV shows

My blogging commitment has really gone down the drain. At this rate, I'll be lucky if I finish this 30 'day' blog challenge in one year. But I firmly believe that it's better late than never so here I am back to doing this.

My love for How I Met Your Mother has been well documented in this blog throughout the whole series. I expressed my disappointment with the ending of the show, which I thought was very unnecessary and forced, but nevertheless, it will always have a soft spot in my heart. As much as I want to binge watch Friends, arguably the better HIMYM, it's still not available in Netflix Australia. Since HIMYM ended, I haven't loved or even followed any new TV shows. Everyone's raving about Game of Thrones, Walking Dead, Narcos, and Suits but I've generally lost my interest in the multiple-seasons type of TV shows already. It just takes so much time and commitment. 

During my free time, I always watch Korean dramas for a number of reasons 1) they are short. 16-20 hours for the whole series and 2) I need to learn Korean. But while I do watch Korean dramas frequently, there still hasn't been a single drama that would make the list of my favorite TV shows so I really have nothing to say about this post. Hahaha. Ciao! 

Twenty seven years

The first quarter of this year had been very eventful for me. Aside from the general turning-over-a-new-leaf, early this year was when both of my parents left their forties and I turned 27, and when Jay and I celebrated three years of being together. It was also when I achieved some career milestones – sealing two research footprints and reaching the halfway mark of my PhD program. I have so much to say, being the reflective person that I am, for each of these milestones but how do I write without being redundant? How do I write something relatable? The learnings, stories, and emotions have been scattered in my head for a long time and it’s only today that I realized why I haven’t been able to write – because an adult life is not anymore a box divided into love, family, and career. It’s rather a continuous thread that entwines all aspects of our lives that has to be viewed altogether.

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Until I was eighteen, I used to think that actors past 25 are old in a sense that they should stop acting in romantic comedy movies because 25 year-olds are not charming anymore. Don’t shoot me, I was naïve. Now that I am 27, past the 'expiration' age according to my younger self, I still do not feel any different than when I was 22, at least in the context of youth. I am healthy and fit, I still get carded at the liquor store when I don’t wear makeup, and aside from the lost cheek fat, I generally feel no difference. What drastically changed was my life outside the skin-deep markers of age. Now, I have more freedom in almost all aspects of my life – financial, social and personal. My parents have stopped interfering, or even at least commenting, on my life decisions and they have long held me accountable for the outcomes of my choices. I moved out when I was 24. I earn and manage my finances. I pay my own rent, buy my groceries and pay for my insurance. Coming from a very conservative and protective family, this is a drastic and welcome change that my 18-year-old self would have never seen coming.

You see, it all sounds exciting until it becomes overwhelming or in other words, “adulting”. That dreaded stage of our 20’s when life is suddenly full of responsibilities, expectations, and judgments, and never about enjoying our long-awaited freedom anymore. I still want to feel young, energetic, and free from lifelong commitments and yet life shoves too many overwhelming responsibilities and sets impossible life deadlines that, according to society, I should have met by now.

It doesn’t mean that the society is the only one at fault for my adulting fiasco. To illustrate, if my life is a biopic, all my travel and vacation memories will not be part of the highlights. Instead, it will show what I think are the best versions of myself: hardworking and motivated student, a good daughter to her parents, a career-oriented woman, and a loving and supportive partner. I used to measure my self-worth by my achievements and never by my efforts. So last year, when life demands suddenly became unmanageable and goals got unattainable, my sense of self-worth was shaken and so was my mental health. I had episodes of depression. My desire to meet my unrealistic expectations heightened my anxieties. I became too anxious towards my health. My homesickness turned to excessive worrying. I hated myself so I poured all my time and attention towards my relationship that eventually turned to unhealthy overdependence. I was a mess.

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Counseling and self-help materials guided me on how to give the same love, compassion, and sympathy that I give to other people towards myself without feeling narcissistic and selfish. It’s the same love acknowledges my own achievements, no matter how big or small, even when the only achievement is to get out of the house to fight depression. It’s the same self-love that made me proud of my position in academia – despite the mockery and ignorance of other people about what I do. I learned that for as long as I give my best in whatever I do and believe that in good faith, it will somewhat contribute to this world, then I should be proud of myself.

******

They say, people who do not love at all, not even himself, do not fear anything. I knew that love is at the core of all my fears and anxieties but while they all came from good intentions, it made me unhealthy. I was not ready to process the new layers of life that I had experienced. Ones that only come with age and maturity. I never doubted my love for my parents, but it’s only now that I can finally understand their love. Parents have their own dreams, feelings, and ambitions that do not necessarily revolve around their children but it’s their selflessness and love that made them set aside their individualities. Perry and Lily are people before they are my parents. I grow up as much as they grow old. While that fact still wrenches my heart, it is a reality that I have come to terms with only now that I am older. 

******

Perhaps the culmination of my learnings on love and life is my relationship with Jay. Out of all the things told about love, this I proved true: relationships need as much work as love for it to work. We could have given up a long time ago. It was a time when being single was far more practical and convenient than spending all our salaries searching for every possible way to stay together in a country that neither of us calls home. For Jay, whose home country shines brighter than where he moved to, he really had no reason to stay. And after countless failures, thousands of dollars and a surgery, safe to say we had all the logical reasons to end our relationship. But the simple reason why we held on was also the main reason why our relationship began: we really love each other. I was certain that I will never find another love like ours and I have no reason to find it in someone else – period.

I believe in fate. Fate is the reason why we met in the first place. It was fate that aligned our lucky stars and opened both our PhD programs in the same city. And it was also fated that we both have the most supportive parents who never held us back. But just as much as the hands of God worked in our lives, it was also our hard work that led us here. Where we are right now is the sum of all our efforts - from persistent applications, ardent long-distance communications, and daily language lessons, down to our commitment to stay together through thick and thin. I know it sounds like a lot of work, but if you're fighting for the right person, believe me when I say you'll never think twice. 

******

One thousand three hundred words were written, and yet I still don’t know the secret to a good life.  I don't know the secret to a lasting marriage. Twenty-seven years later and yet I am still clueless about this world. But what I do know by now is I should live more ardently and passionately each day. That I should stop pursuing a happy life, but rather a life full of meaning. Twenty-seven more years later, I hope I can say I lived rather well.  

People for All Seasons

"You have to accept that some people are not made for deep conversations, or for holding you together when you’re about to fall apart, or for keeping you from unzipping your skin, or for talking you out of suicide, or to love you through the worst moments of your life. Some people are made for shallow exchanges, and ridiculous banter, and nothing more. And that’s okay. That doesn’t make them horrible people because they simply aren’t able to handle a storm like you. It doesn’t make you a bad person because you won’t divulge all the gritty details of your horror show. It makes you smart. You have to accept that there will be people that cannot give what you need. It doesn’t mean they are not worth keeping in your life. You just have to figure out who these ones are before you’re disappointed. And you have to keep them at arm’s length. You cannot expect everyone in your life to understand, to be nonjudgmental, to get it. But that’s okay, because not everyone was made to impart wisdom, or wax-poetic, or speak on politics and the depravity of society, or discuss how crucial it is that the stigma of mental illness be abolished. There are times when you have to get away from all that heaviness. You have to. And you will need superficial conversation about Kim Kardashian’s arse, or a debate on the color of The Dress. You will need those ones. So don’t go round cutting people off and dropping your friends. You need people for all your seasons. You need people or you won’t survive this.” 

Day 10: Something I'm afraid of

Perfectionism: The Road to Failure

An excerpt

Published 10/5/2007 

It's human nature to do something as well as you can. It makes you feel worthwhile, elevates you in the eyes of friends, family and work colleagues. But if you feel you have to do things absolutely perfectly, and second best just won't do, then you could be setting yourself up for failure – and the depression and anxiety that follows. 

Perfectionism is a common character trait, particularly in people in environments where there's fierce competition or a culture of bullying – some corporate cultures, and in some schools where there a strong emphasis on status and achievement. It's also common in people who come from families where the parents are authoritarian and love is conditional – given out as a reward for good behaviour or withdrawn as a punishment. A mild degree of perfectionism can be a healthy thing. It can drive you to achieve things you wouldn't otherwise achieve and it can give you the motivation to persevere in the face of discouragement and obstacles. High-achieving athletes, scientists, and artists often show signs of perfectionism. But it can also be a source of stress, anxiety and depression. 

So when does perfectionism become more than a useful character trait and becomes destructive? Warning signs are when you:
1. Worry about mistakes and don't give yourself credit for your successes;
2. Can't enjoy something you've done, because there are other things you need to do at which you might fail;
3. Regret things you've done in the past that haven't turned out as you'd have liked;
4. Frequently criticise and find fault in others;
5. Have trouble adapting when circumstances change or when you aren't able to control a situation.