Myth of Perfection

So, recently Guen, one of my fabulously talented colleagues, sent out a mass email … with a typo in it. Now mind you, I’m practically famous for the occurrence of typos in my writing, so you can imagine I didn’t care very much at all. But Guen, an absolute tyrannical typo Nazi, was quite mortified. How can a couple little letters reek such a sense of failure in such a competent, intelligent, wonderful human being? And why is that vulnerability in each of us, even if it isn’t around typos but something else entirely?

Little imperfections get us down because, while professionalism and polish are always important, perfection is simply impossible. Yet it is often the expectation that is communicated to us. Society expects us to be perfect. The media holds up perfect archetypes for us to try to emulate. Misguided parents often project that their love for us is about in proportion to the extent to which we are perfect. And there are always people eager to look at, talk about, or judge the lack of perfection we exhibit, leaving us particularly exposed and vulnerable when our imperfection accidentally shows.

And while it’s not easy to ignore that, it’s at least a little disarming to realize that people who are prone to notice, judge, (and worse) point out, or celebrate the imperfections in others are only doing so to feel better about themselves. Truly, I’ve never met anyone really happy with themselves, truly at peace in their own skin, who felt the need to elevate themselves by taking joy in the imperfection of another.

I heard a commentator on talk radio the other day (no clue which side of the fence he was on if that matters) who said, “You know, I think politicians would come much closer in terms of working together if they’d all admit they’re a little messed up … because we are ALL a little messed up. Like, ‘Here’s what’s wrong with my life, but I’m working on it’ or ‘Here’s what I struggle with, but I’m working on it.’ So that, instead of trying to capitalize on the failures and imperfections of each other, they might actually focus on doing something good together. After all, no one is without a skeleton in the closet. No one.”

Now you and I both know this will never happen. But imagine what it would be like to watch people going around in the work place, in relationships, in families with that level of authenticity. “Hi, I’m Emily, I can’t balance my checkbook but I’m working on it.” “I’m impatient, and a horrific speller, and I’m really really easily bored. My computer skills are lackluster at best, but gosh I’m good with people. It’s nice to meet you.” Or how about even more authenticity. “I’m not actually working on learning to balance my checkbook because I got over caring that I can’t do it!!!!”

It’s a radical thought, I know.

But I think if people got over feeling terrible about their imperfections enough to simply own them, it would sort of liberate everyone to stop pretending to be perfect also. And then maybe, just maybe, Guen could stop beating herself up for the typo and I could stop feeling so inept for needing my 7-year old’s help with my own computer.