I've been trying to wrap my head around the perfectionist idea, too.
Because my mother ranted so much about being a failure and not doing anything correctly enough while I was a kid, I grew up with those thoughts in my head.
So, I performed with the perfectionist ideal in my head. Any slip-up, any minor mistake was met with the voice of my mother in my head telling me that I could have done better and that I was worthless and a failure. And I would be angry with myself. Nothing I did as a kid could win her unconditional love. Therefore, I was a failure.
ANY criticism by people in my adult life was exaggerated by that b*tches voice in my head.
And if I saw people screw up,... there was that b*tches voice,... becoming my own.
She also taught me as a kid that anything I had to say was meaningless,... there was no point to speaking out. Or, if I did speak out, I would have to conceive of every possible retort and result to speaking out against her. All while trying to be a kid.
In the military, being able to conceive of every possible retort and result to speaking out is loved and honed. You contemplate every disaster scenario and contingency to every military activity. And if you guard your words in front of your command. You can become a superhero.
However, your personal life suffers for it.
Eventually, when you grow into any adult not trusting anyone, you can hit a wall.
With me it was the military PTSD.
It really affected me. I found out I wasn't perfect soldier. I tried to be,... in everyway, shape, and form.
But, in my mind, the PTSD meant that I failed. And this failure was exaggerated by that b*tches voice in my head.
I lacked the ability to open up to anyone about my experience and was an expert at stuffing things down.
The Army loves people with this ability. Its called "Suck it up, and drive on."
As a result, the PTSD "box" eventually got full. And I was angry at myself for not being able to fulfil the role of the perfect soldier.
Until I retired, I couldn't deal with the "box". Opening that "box" Military PTSD would have ended my career.
Since I've retired,...
I've been coming to recognize how much of an influence my mothers "stuff" had on me, how much of an influence my mother's crap has had on my attempts in dealing with my military PTSD, and how big that f*cking box was.
The military PTSD broke my brain,... the drugs I'm now on seem to be helping.
And my T is helping me open my eyes to all the crap that makes me, me.
But, yeah,... being a perfectionist is very over-rated.
I still have problems allowing myself to do ANYTHING half-ass.
I still have problems allowing myself to make a mistake,... any mistake.
But, when I do, I actually ask myself,... "Who is angry at the mistake? Me? Or, my mother's voice?"
Now, from time to time, I have even allowed people fall flat on their faces and not be angry about it.
I'm not angry that I didn't point out their mistakes. And I'm not angry that they are an idiot.
With my T's help, I'm learning that I no longer HAVE to be a perfectionist.
I'm learning I no longer need to be angry with myself about the crap in my life.
I'm learning that I am not a weak "ex-soldier" if I cry. And when I cry, I don't need to be angry with myself for it.
Ruth
(I don't know if this helps,... but, this anger topic is helping me.)