For much of my life, I would not have called myself a perfectionist. Especially as a kid. Sloppy, maybe. Lazy, definitely. I whizzed through math homework, half-brushed my teeth, settled for “good enough” on cleaning my bedroom and most of my chores.
So the word didn’t seem to fit. And that’s exactly how the closet perfectionist hides.
Because here’s what was also true: by fifth grade I was spending hours trying to perfect my cursive into the beautiful script my Belgian classmates made look effortless. Because inside me, growing stronger by the day, was a sneaky judge — shaking her head in disappointment or driving me forward like a mean master whipping a tired horse.
And don’t get me started on the mean girl Inner Critic! She just kept telling me that my efforts most definitely weren’t up to par.
Low key or even lazy on the outside. Relentless on the inside. If that combination sounds familiar, you might be a closet perfectionist too.
Here’s something that took me far too long to see: perfectionism is not the same as the pursuit of excellence. They can look alike from the outside, but one moves you forward and the other keeps you small — always measuring, never arriving. I spent decades mistaking one for the other.
I spent my 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s convinced that if I could just get things a little more perfect, then I’d be good enough. Accepted. Loved. What I couldn’t see is that I already was — at least for the most part — by the people around me.
The one withholding approval was the judge in my own head. And she was harder to please than my critical father, or any real judge in the outside world.
What I finally learned — and this is the thing I really want you to know: the acceptance I was chasing out there was never going to come. I had to make friends with the judges in here.
And these inner judges — the perfectionist, the inner critic, the mean girls in your head — they seem tough. But like most bullies, they’re scared and lonely underneath that hard exterior. When I remember that, I can meet them with strong and peaceful energy. I can move forward even with their squabbling voices in the background.
Case in point: I’ve just written a book. Something I was supposed to do decades ago. After all, I’d decided I would be a writer when I was eight years old.
But, of course, if I’d managed to write one earlier in life, it wouldn’t be THIS book. It’s a product of the wisdom I’ve gathered over all these years. It could have been some sort of book, sure — and that inner judge is pissed I didn’t do it sooner. She doesn’t want to let me celebrate what I’ve actually accomplished.
Ironically, one of the big topics the book addresses is… perfectionism. Also the Inner Critic.
I bring my own experiences with both of these bugaboos to the pages. And I share the tools and practices that help me distance myself from these mean girls inside my head — the same tools that might help you step back from yours.
My book is called Unabandoned: A Midlife Woman’s Guide Out of Perfectionism, People-Pleasing, and Imposter Syndrome. I have battled my way through all three and found my way (mostly) out. I still keep a flashlight handy for when that path gets dark.
It comes out September 26th, and if you click the subscribe button below you’ll get notified as soon as it’s available.
And now — here’s the question you might be avoiding, just like I was for all those years: Whose approval are you actually waiting for? And what if she’s in here, and not out there after all?
📖 About the book
Unabandoned: A Midlife Woman’s Guide Out of People-Pleasing, Perfectionism, and Imposter Syndrome
You did everything right. You became the one everyone counts on. So why the hum of discontent that wakes you at 3 a.m.?
Unabandoned is part memoir, part field guide — the friendly company of someone who walked this ground just ahead of you, reaching back. You’ve left yourself behind for so long. This is the invitation to stay.
Out September 26th. If you’re already subscribed you’ll be among the first to know when it lands.