Reflections on perfectionism: breaking the cycle and regaining control

Topics mentioned: anxiety, perfectionism, self-esteem, counselling and therapy

About: Annabell, 21, explains how counselling and CBT helped her understand perfectionism, break anxious thought cycles, and put her wellbeing first.

My anxiety always made me feel like my life had two parts: negatives and positives. Anything negative became part of an endless string of mistakes that were always, always due to some innate fault of mine. Any positives were simply accidents, or because I'd somehow managed to perfectly follow the rules anxiety dictated for me.

When I was younger, that anxiety was wrapped up in a playful nickname, something my mum would tell other parents who were amazed by me: that I was “a perfectionist”. As I grew older, and the stressors of exams, uni and life began to take their toll, the pressure made my worries all the more intense.

On the surface, perfectionism looks like a need for excellence, but at its core it can be fuelled by a lack of self-esteem and internal reference. Perfectionists often think in rigid, critical patterns that, overtime, can skew their values, beliefs and behaviours - both about themselves or towards others.

For me, this meant the way I saw myself was based on how I assumed other people saw me. I’d struggle to describe myself, or name things I liked about myself without defaulting to things related to someone else, e.g. being creative so other people thought I was, and liked me for it, was more important to me than actually making art and enjoying the process.

It was like I didn’t exist as a whole person - I’d just pick a version of me to play for whoever was watching. I would worry about making mistakes because I didn’t want to disappoint or inconvenience people by falling short of their expectations, not out of any concern for myself.

Not only did this harm my self image, but it made it difficult for me to take care of myself, especially in periods of poor mental health. All my energy and time went to preserving this construct of myself I’d created.

In my first year of university, a depressive episode kept me out of lectures for weeks. I remember the counsellor I saw at the time introduced me to this idea: that perfectionism wasn't something I 'had', but a placeholder for everything it was costing me.

My self-doubt and self-criticism weren’t innate, unchangeable parts of myself, they were behaviours I’d developed overtime to try to cope with my anxiety, that ultimately made it worse. The effort I was putting into monitoring and overworking myself could be used for things that would actually make me happy.

I realised that the daily burden of trying to satisfy these standards wasn't propelling me towards anything, but instead holding me back. I was stuck in a projection of my self-image based on a throwaway comment from when I was five years old.

It was difficult to accept at first. The rules and expectations I'd created for myself had been a barrier to hurt, failure and any form of disappointment for so long. Reaching out for help felt like stabbing my younger self in the back. At first, I couldn’t separate myself from my perfectionist tendencies: I believed I owed them everything. Behind every achievement was the fear that had motivated me to work hard. Without that, I was nothing.

Cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) helped me make sense of these conflicting feelings and start working on finding who I was outside of my expectations. My therapist encouraged me to think outside of myself:

Seeing that my personality and identity didn’t have to be tied to achievements at school or abstract ways of being 'the best' helped me regain a sense of direction. At last, I felt that my life wasn’t something I had to prove the value of; I had so much to be proud of without even trying.

Perfectionism isn’t a logical mindset, and once you start to poke holes in it, it’s easy to see that. Working through thought cycle exercises with my therapist empowered me to question my anxious thoughts and stop giving in to behaviours that I knew would hurt me in the long run. It was difficult, but it helped me see my thought processes laid out.

For example, forcing myself to work through assignments at night would always stop me from sleeping; sleep deprivation would make my work worse or incomplete; and ultimately stop me from attending class, keeping the cycle of worry in play. This confirmed that I was only hurting myself and feeding into my fear. I could never worry my way into success.

Letting go of my own rigid expectations and prioritising my wellbeing (sleeping regardless, doing half of the work, not beating myself up for being five minutes late or not going at all), was the only way to escape the cycle.

Once a situation initiates a cycle, here are two examples of what a thought cycle can look like:

Coping with anxiety isn’t a one-way street. I’m in my third year of uni now and I still find myself confronting the same fears around making mistakes as I was in secondary school. The difference now, of course, is that I’m willing to confront my anxiety, rather than give in to it. Even if tasks end up taking a little longer, I’m willing to be kind to myself and find a mindful, non-self-destructive way of doing things.

It’s hard work, but taking even one small step in the right direction already takes you further away from anxiety, and closer back to yourself.