I’m a Therapist, and I Didn’t Realize I Was a Perfectionist Until My 40s

by Katie Berry, LCPC

For most of my life, if you had asked me whether I was a perfectionist, I would have said no. I did not identify with that whatsoever.

I knew what perfectionism looked like. At least I thought I did.

Perfectionists were incredibly organized. Their homes were spotless. Their handwriting was probably beautiful. They did things meticulously and refused to settle for anything less than exactly right. They are very hard on themselves when they make a mistake.

That wasn't me.

I can tolerate an (organized) mess. I also practice an enormous amount of self-compassion if something doesn't go right. I can be extremely organized in certain ways and absolute organized chaos in others (see my closet and office for examples).

My google calendar, for example, knows exactly where I am supposed to be and when. It is literally always updated, and I'd genuinely feel lost without it. I am excellent at time management and getting somewhere on time. My to-do lists are another story, though. Those live in my phone, various notebooks, random pieces of paper, and quite often, entirely in my head.

There are plenty of things in my life that I am perfectly willing to declare "good enough."

I am also a therapist.

I have spent years helping people understand patterns they developed, the beliefs underneath those patterns, and the ways those patterns can follow us into adulthood without us realizing it.

Which makes what happened to me this year particularly funny. And wildly infuriating.

Because sometime in my 40s, ;) while building a website this year, I had the very humbling realization:

Oh my GOD. I'M a perfectionist.

How did I miss this?!

The Perfectionism Was There for Years. I Just Didn’t Recognize It.

This May, I started building out an expansion of my business.

That meant building a website, learning about content, positioning, strategy, marketing, search engines, page design, messaging, and approximately 4,000 other things I had previously known very little about.

At first, it was exciting.

But the deeper I got into the process, the more decisions there were. The longer my to-do lists became. The bigger my overwhelm grew. The later my bedtime got.

How do I write interesting content for an About Me section without it sounding like a boring resume?

Is that the right headline?

Does this section make sense here?

Is this the right image?

Shit, did I press the save button recently?

I'm annoyed I have to pee because I'm too busy to get up.

Should this button say "Learn More" or something else?

Why isn't the button working? (This was the literal BANE of my existence.)

Does this actually communicate what I'm trying to say?

Would someone understand who this is for?

Is this good positioning?

Does the font work?

Now I'm literally angry that I have to pee and stand up and leave my laptop for a minute.

Is the spacing right?

Did I explain trauma in a way that doesn't sound so clinical?

Could the sentence be stronger?

Maybe I should move that section.

Actually, maybe I should put it back.

I was learning about strategy and content and positioning while simultaneously trying to execute all of it.

And because I was learning more every day, I could also see more things I could improve every day.

There was always another tweak.

Another question.

Another decision.

Another thing I could make better.

Another thing to add to my to-do list. It never got shorter.

And at some point, I had this very stark moment of recognizing myself.

Wait.

Oh my God, this is perfectionism.

Not the version I had imagined for years.

Not "everything in my house has to be perfectly arranged."

Not "I can't tolerate making a mistake."

Not even necessarily "everything has to be perfect."

My perfectionism looked much more like:

I really, really want to get this right. And I can't drop any balls.

And once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it.

Perfectionism Can Look a Lot More Reasonable Than We Think

I think one of the reasons I missed perfectionism in myself for so long is because many of the behaviors associated with it can look incredibly functional.

Caring about doing good work sounds like a strength.

Being responsible sounds like a strength.

Wanting to make thoughtful decisions sounds like a strength.

Researching something before acting sounds like a strength.

Working hard sounds like a strength.

And they are strengths.

Until they aren't.

I didn't recognize my perfectionism because in my life, perfectionism often looked like competence.

There is a point where "I want to do this well" quietly becomes "I cannot stop thinking about whether I am doing this well enough."

Where being responsible becomes feeling responsible for things that were never entirely mine to control.

Where thoughtful decision-making becomes agonizing over whether I am making the right decision.

Where learning becomes believing I need to know just a little more before I can trust myself.

Where working hard becomes having absolutely no idea when I have worked enough.

That was the version of perfectionism I recognized in myself.

And suddenly, a lot of things made more sense.

Perfectionism Usually Learned Its Job Somewhere

I don't think most people wake up one morning and decide, You know what would really improve my life? An inability to leave well enough alone.

There isn't one single reason people become perfectionistic.

For some people, doing exceptionally well brought praise, attention, approval, or a sense of being valued.

For others, mistakes were criticized, noticed, or simply felt unusually costly.

Some grew up around adults who modeled incredibly high standards.

Some learned that being responsible, prepared, useful, accomplished, or easy to rely on helped life run more smoothly.

Sometimes perfectionism can develop in environments where things felt unpredictable or where getting things right created some sense of control.

And sometimes there isn't one dramatic origin story at all.

You may simply have been a conscientious kid who noticed that doing things well worked.

People trusted you.

Teachers praised you.

Adults depended on you.

You became the one who remembered things, followed through, got good grades, anticipated what needed to happen, figured things out, or rarely caused problems.

And your brain took notes.

That's the thing about patterns. Most of them developed for a reason.

They did something for us.

They helped us feel safe, successful, valued, capable, prepared, accepted, or in control. Sometimes they simply made life easier.

And when a behavior works really, really well, there isn't much incentive for your brain to question it.

Which is part of why perfectionism can be so difficult to recognize later.

It may not feel like fear or insecurity.

It may feel like being competent.

Responsible.

Prepared.

Dependable.

Driven.

The person who gets shit done. All of these things are me.

Until the strategy that helped you succeed starts costing you more than you realize.

Sometimes the Pattern Isn't Wanting Perfection. It's Struggling to Know When Enough Is Enough.

This may be one of the biggest things I've learned about my own perfectionism.

I don't actually expect MYSELF to be perfect, but I expect the things I do to be really, really well thought out and executed.

And I can have a remarkably difficult time deciding when something is done.

There is always one more improvement available.

One more thing to research.

One more way I could make something stronger.

One more possibility I haven't considered.

And when something matters to me, that part of me can become incredibly persistent.

She does not recognize tired as a reason to stop.

She has a job to do.

And she would very much like everyone else to stop interrupting her while she does it.

Interestingly, Though, She Has Become the Unsung Hero in My Life

Because that woman gets things DONE.

She has helped me accomplish so much in my life.

She cares.

She pays attention to detail, and it's maybe her greatest strength.

She follows through.

She is thoughtful.

She is determined.

She so rarely drops the ball.

She notices things other people might overlook.

She wants the things I put into the world to be thoughtful and meaningful.

When I decide I want to understand something, she will absolutely figure it out.

When something matters to me, she shows up hard.

Again and again and again.

The problem is that she has absolutely no concept of labor laws.

My Perfectionist Needs PTO

The perfectionist part of me will readily skip lunch. And bathroom breaks, I have noticed..

She will work through the weekend.

She will tell me that we are almost finished, even though both of us know there will be twelve additional things she wants to do once we finish the current thing.

She doesn't recognize when she needs a break.

Once I realized I am a perfectionist, I had to take a minute to process the identity crisis I was experiencing. Then I had to figure out what to actually do with this information. Because I quickly realized that this part of me will work overtime and run herself ragged if I don't step in.

I have had to learn how to notice when she is taking over:

When I am staring at something that absolutely does not need another hour of my attention.

When I am trying to solve a problem my brain is simply too tired to solve well.

When I'm telling myself I'll rest after I finish just one more thing.

When I am no longer doing better work. I am simply continuing to work.

And I have had to learn to tell her:

You're done for today.

Take lunch.

Close the laptop.

The work will still exist tomorrow.

The Goal Isn't to Eliminate Every Part of Ourselves That Creates Difficulty

Therapy often involves identifying patterns that no longer serve us.

But not every pattern needs to be treated like an enemy.

Sometimes the same part of us that creates difficulty…. is also responsible for some of the things we value most about ourselves.

The goal is not to get rid of that part.

It is to understand her.

To recognize when she's helping.

To recognize when she's taken over.

And to learn when to gently take the keys away. And sometimes hide them ;)

I don't want my perfectionist to disappear.

I need her drive.

I need her determination.

I need her follow-through.

I need her ability to organize the things that matter.

I need her extreme attention to detail.

I need the part of her that cares deeply about what I create and the people I serve.

I quite literally need her to run my life sometimes.

I just also need to remember something she is absolutely incapable of remembering on her own:

Even heroes need a lunch break.

And occasionally, some PTO.

……….without the laptop in the carry-on.