Personality Perfectionist

From unconscious shape-shifting to self-posessed sovereignty.

Listen to your heart. How often do we hear this phrase? It’s great advice but is it always that simple? What if you don’t know how? What if you can’t hear your heart however much you might want to?

For some of us, listening to our heart is inconceivable, so shrouded as it is with opinions, fear and other people. Seeing it has become so difficult we don’t even know it is a possibility. We have spent so long avoiding our own intuitions through our desperate desire to belong and be loved. This is the situation I found myself in through most of my life. The act of clearing the path towards my own soul is long and treacherous. I have so far to go but it’s already worth the trouble.

Some of you may be a perfectionist at work, or in your kitchen or perhaps your makeup is flawlessly applied each morning without fail. I am none of these things and always considered myself the opposite of a perfectionist. I never applied myself particularly in any area, preferring flexibility and a ‘go with the flow’ attitude. The more I reach into the recesses of my own brain however, through my work with IFS*, I realise I am fastidious. I must be the best possible version of myself in as many situations as possible as often as possible to as many people as possible. My entire personality is an act of perfectionism.

What makes a person stay true to themselves? How is inner confidence cultivated? I know now there are ways we can grow these vital traits. But as a child, before we can consciously decide on our path, what makes one child so ‘No’ and another say ‘Yes, whatever you need, I will do it’. I was that second child. To me, it just made sense and I did it instinctively. When I cried and those around me scorned it, I learned that crying is embarrassing and I tried to do it less. When I’m noisy, my mother doesn’t like it, ok I’ll adjust, be less noisy. At home, my dad praises me if I get all the answers correct. Great, I know how success works. Damn, at school, the exact same input produces the opposite outcome. I am a goody goody and clearly that’s bad. What now? Adjust, adjust, adjust. I have to get straight A’s so the teachers like me, be a musical genius at home so my parents accept me and yet, I can’t be too good at any of these things because my peers don’t like that. What I need and what I like doesn’t matter because the most important thing is to be… safe. At the core of it, I am afraid. If I am not being what others need to be, I will be left alone and then, then I will not survive.

At the same time, I remember many moments throughout my life where I questioned my inability to ‘hear’ myself. I had heard about intuition and I sensed it was important but I couldn’t access it and didn’t know what I was looking for. I knew what my goal was – authenticity – but through the coping mechanisms I’d created, every decision I made only took me further from my goal.

By the time I was 16 and I was asked to choose a career, I had absolutely no idea what I should do. I had trained my whole life to be a classical musician but there was no part of my body that agreed with this idea and so I was left with only unintuitive options and no way to carve a different path. I fell into the music industry which was just more of the same. Be pretty but don’t show off. Be likeable and above all, don’t make a fuss. You are not the artist, blend in. And though it took me a while, I was a great student. By my late 20s I had figured out the multitude of rules. I had a strategy for my family and another for work situations. I had learned what was socially acceptable and generally how to be a success. I had an enviable career and masses of friends. I minimised pain and maximised acceptability. I made a great impression. Acquaintances were shocked if I ever mentioned my intense bouts of anxiety or insecurity. I gave the impression I was cool, calm and confident. The epitome of a swan furiously peddling beneath the water while remaining serene up top.

I was cold inside. My job bored me. My friends didn’t know me. More importantly, I didn’t know myself. I was tired to my core. At some point, it all started to topple. Infertility. Illness. Inertia. My body could not sustain the pressure.

I don’t think I’m alone in struggling to find my passion. The feeling of insignificance and of being lost is pervasive in our culture. Why can’t we help our children discover their heart’s desire rather than prescribing and demanding? And not just in our careers, in our very way of being, the way we interact with others, how we show up and who we choose to be. But what is it about me and people like me that means I need everyone to accept me and to take everyone else’s opinion above my own? I can’t blame my parents as I have numerous rebellious siblings, but the chaotic way in which I was raised meant that I was constantly on high alert. Vigilant. And in a family of big personalities I concluded that in order to be of value it made most sense to be inconspicuous. In fact, when I asked my father what he remembers about my childhood, the only thing he could come up with was “You were no trouble. I remember telling you off once, and I never had to do it again”. So I was a quick learner too. It makes me sad that I never knew or even imagined that it would be ok just to be myself.

My therapist helped me see that my system is actually very clever. Juggling all these responsibilities is quite the feat and a genius survival strategy. I want to see it this way rather than believing I am the phony I so often used to feel. I didn’t do any of this consciously. In fact, it’s only now, as I unpick my past that I see things more clearly and realise how much work I was putting in every second of every day just to feel ok. I still struggle to maintain boundaries and find my voice, but I can now sense when I am heading down the wrong path. I have touched base with my intuition and I know now that I can develop this relationship and move towards autonomy and empowerment.

I get the impression the younger generations have got the hang of this. They have their own problems, but they shock (and frighten) me with their individualism and their seeming self-confidence. I say seeming because I still struggle to comprehend its authenticity at their tender ages. But perhaps if you are taught self-belief as a child, it stays with you through the trials of life, like a port in a storm. A safe, warm centre, anchoring you to love and safety. How dreamy. I’d kill for that.

As it is, I just have to work on building my own centre, one tiny step at a time. A few years ago, if you’d asked me what my greatest strength is, I’d have said flexibility and amiability. Now I credit those same attributes as my greatest weakness. I can’t wait to not give a fuck, but that doesn’t feel safe just yet. I’m breaking free but it really is breaking the habit of a lifetime. Maybe when I’m 80 I’ll be fearless and you’ll get to meet the real me. All of me.

*Internal Family Systems (IFS) is a therapeutic approach developed by Richard C. Schwartz that views the mind as made up of different “parts,” each with its own feelings, beliefs, and roles. These parts often develop as protective responses to life experiences.

At the center of the system is the Self — a calm, compassionate, and wise presence that can guide the healing process. In IFS, the goal is not to eliminate parts but to get to know them, help them release burdens, and restore balance so that the Self can lead.