“Our psyche muscles cramp around our wounds-the pain from our childhood, the losses and disappointments of adulthood, the humiliations suffered in both-to keep us from getting hurt in the same places again-to keep foreign substance out—so those wounds never have a chance to heal. Perfectionism is one way our muscles cramp.” —Anne Lamott
When I was probably around 7 or 8 years old, I learned what it felt like to fail on accident. I learned that when you are a kid, you don't know how to do the right things all the time. I learned that you don't know how to please all the different adults in your life-the teachers, the parents, the Sunday school leaders, the aunts and uncles, the pastor.
The truth is, I tried super hard to be a good kid, but I vividly remember the feeling of disappointing adults. Maybe it's a weird thing to remember, but I actually remember the specific feeling of shame, and the feeling of helplessness for not knowing how to avoid it.
I must have made a commitment with myself at about 8-years-old to avoid that feeling of shame at all costs. I even remember being pleased with becoming a teenager because I wasn't a helpless kid anymore, and I had learned the trick to avoiding shame—don't disappoint people.
Fast-forward 20 years. I'm a grown adult, traveling the world, still avoiding shame. My adult-self has even learned an additional way of avoiding shame—apathy.
If I don't care about your approval, then you can't cause me to feel shame. And I can quickly determine which box to put people in—either the “I don't care what you think” box, or the “I can get your approval” box.
I think my ability to read people and determine their box so quickly is a big reason performance has “worked” for me.
While it's a cool skill to be able to perceive people, I don't want to use it to avoid shame or seek approval anymore. I don't even want to want that approval. Plus, when I disappoint people, the shame still pierces pretty deep, and I still tend to react through apathy or pleasing.
I had a glimpse into the level of the depravity of my own heart last month in Cape Town and felt a lot of shame. I also felt shame later on that month when an interaction with a friend left me feeling insecure. But in both of these scenarios I willingly chose something different than apathy or pleasing.
I acknowledged my guilt. I acknowledged that I do have shame, that I am not perfect, and that trying to be perfect is a problem in and of itself because it suggests that I believe I can be equal to God. And I looked to God for approval and love.
It sucked to feel the shame, but the reality is, it brought love and acceptance much quicker than my normal pattern. It left room for God to speak to me. It left room for God to do what he longs to do for me, which I think is love me as a broken person. And to cover my shame with forgiveness.
But before I can experience forgiveness, I have to acknowledge my brokenness and my need for the forgiveness.
I think the only thing keeping me from experiencing God's love and forgiveness is repentance. And what keeps me from repentance is pride, because I don't want to acknowledge that I'm broken or imperfect.
In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott helped me to see the futility of trying to pretend like I am perfect. She parallel's accepting imperfection to writing a messy first draft.
“Perfectionism means that you try desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived. Clutter is wonderfully fertile ground. You can discover new treasures under all those piles, clean things up, edit things out, fix things, get a grip. Tidiness suggests that something is as good as it going to get.”
So I think it's time to break the contract I made with my 8-year-old self. Instead of avoiding shame at all costs, I will accept the fact that I won't always please people, and readily accept the feeling of shame I naturally have when disappointment occurs. I'll take it as an opportunity to lay down my pride, and acknowledge that I am, in fact, not God, but someone who needs to be loved by Him.
That last line felt weird even to type. I think that means it's a good place for me to start.
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