Teachings of an Imperfect Beanie

I struggled writing this article. This week a lot of doubts came up: this blog is stupid, people are judging me, my thoughts do not matter to other people so why write about them… the list could go on. One of the most frequent worries I had was whether or not what I was writing about was the perfect topic. The first few articles came easily and naturally, this one… not so much. Finally I settled on discussing this whole idea of PERFECTION.

When I was in high school I had an extremely difficult time with perfectionism. No essay, or test was turned in without reading it over at least three times for grammatical errors, typos, etc. Math problems were always triple checked, and I was always on edge during science experiments, making sure my group followed each step concisely. The expectation for myself was perfection, and anything less than that was unacceptable in my opinion. I am not unique in this situation by any means. Especially in young adulthood, the pressure to get good grades, go to the best colleges and accomplish so many things leads many teens to unrealistic expectations of themselves.

“Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to be your best. Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgement, and shame. It’s a shield. It’s a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us when, in fact, it’s the thing that’s really preventing us from flight.”

― Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

Double, triple and quadruple checking my homework, tests, etc. was my way to prevent the shame of a bad grade or a poor test score and the judgement that maybe I was not trying hard enough. Ultimately, I was running from the realization that I could not be good at everything. Obviously, this behavior incredibly exhausting and unsustainable. It was one of the first issues I worked on when I began therapy: I learned it was ok to make mistakes and that my worth was not determined by the percentage grade on an assignment or how many sports medals I had on my wall.

Nowadays, my issues with perfectionism show up differently. I have a really hard time sticking with projects and/or activities that I deem myself as “not good at”. Not only can perfectionism affect the way I complete activities, it can also influence which things I am willing/unwilling to try, as well as how long I stick with certain projects. I am definitely not proud of this trait. It is way more likely for me to attempt an activity I think I will be good at than one I know I will have a hard time with. Struggling is uncomfortable. For example, I am much more likely to go for a run with a friend, than play basketball for fear of some making fun of my poor shooting technique (although it has definitely gotten better). Now, if I decide an activity is worth it, I work hard to be perfect at it, but doubt, failure, and the fear of imperfection can definitely keep me from attempting things in the first place. I am not like I was in high school, I give myself some grace for making mistakes, but I know I also have such a long way to go. In addition to being extremely self critical, the world and especially the Bay Area in general places high value on achievement of any kind: sports, grades, hobbies, it does not matter. If you are spending time on an activity the expectation is that you should be good at it.

When you look at children they have unrelenting curiosity and playfulness. They have a zest for life that seems to be unyielding… until it disappears. I am not sure what happens: there are plenty of reasons to stop taking risks, to stop imagining, to stop exploring: money, judgement, expectations, social norms, cultural standards, etc. I feel like the list of reasons for why NOT to do things just gets longer as you get older. The thing is, I am envious of my childhood self. I had the freedom to explore anything I wanted to try thanks to my parents, and I was not old enough to be good at literally anything. You know what age I am talking about? The range of like one to five where you are just along for the ride. People applaud and cheer you on for picking daisies on the soccer field, you get participation ribbons, and there was no pressure to stick to a certain activity, job, sport, or to be good at anything because you were young and just experiencing all that life had to offer. Slowly we grow up and we become aware of others and hopefully aware of ourselves. We fear that other people will laugh or mock, we want our parents and guardians to be proud of us, and we want to belong, not stick out like a sore thumb. Gone was the time where we were able to do an activity and just enjoy it, not worry about how good the end outcome might be. Life is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be enjoyable. It’s supposed to be imperfect. Since when do we (including myself) equate perfection with good and imperfection with bad?

Reminiscing about my childhood led me to try an activity that I definitely was not good at as an eight year old: knitting. I started knitting in the second grade with my teacher Mrs. Seller and my classmates. Mrs. Seller was one of my favorite teachers: she was kind, gentle, and had an amazing story telling ability. To this day I remember the knitting circles we would have in class. I believe we knitted once a week, and it was one of my favorite activities, but I definitely would not say I was good at it. Soon after learning, I had yarn all over my house and even my dad got into my hobby and we would sit on the couch and knit together while watching TV. I would knit with needles, but mostly I would finger-knit long scarves and “snakes” in consistent patterns, as fast as I possibly could. It did not matter that they were not these elaborate masterpieces, it was enough that I was having fun and the activity relaxed me. No one cared that the scarves were uneven and the snakes had no real purpose or use in life.

14 years later I decided to pick up my knitting needles again and give it a try. After brushing up on my skills, I decided to try a knitting pattern for a hat. A week and probably 15+ hours of knitting, cursing and slow stitches later this is what emerged…

The first picture is the hat as it naturally fit on my head. It is entirely too big for literally anyone’s head, let alone mine. The stitching is FAR from perfect… and the pictures intentionally hide a hideous seaming job in the back where I tried to weave in the extra thread. I was pretty annoyed when I finished it. I know, it is just a hat, it is my first project, and ultimately WHO CARES… but I did and I had wanted the hat to be perfect. I had wanted to proudly wear it around the neighborhood and say that I had made it.

When I first put on the hat, my twin sister told me I looked like Toad from Mario Kart. Tell me you do not see at least some similarity…??? After a brief moment of resentment towards her for criticizing my project, I absolutely cracked up. The joke got me thinking… my hat is a good metaphor for my life right now. The stitches and the steps that I am making are not perfect. I miss stitches and I miss steps here and there, I add extra ones on accident, and occasionally I mess up all together and have to start over. Just like this project came together though, my life is taking shape, imperfections and all.

I loved knitting my hat! It was calming, repetitive and therapeutic. So what if my hat will only fit a large giant? I need to be content with the fact that I had fun and that is enough. So I am posting my beautiful, imperfect hat here for everyone to see, and possibly laugh at because honestly, I do look like Toad.

The same thing goes for this blog. My blog is fun, and I enjoy writing about my life. That. Is. Enough. That is enough of a reason to continue writing and to continue blogging.

I do not have some profound realization in this article other than perfection is overrated. Being good or even great at something is cool but also overrated. Being bad at something but having fun doing it? That is where I have found true value this week. Being a poor knitter is definitely uncomfortable for me, I do not have to be good or win awards in order for an activity to be worthy of love. As a person I do not have to be good at everything, win awards, or be perfect to be worthy of love.

This week my thanks goes out to my second grade teacher Ms. Seller. Thank you for inspiring my childhood curiosity, for getting a sporty girl in touch with her creative side, and for encouraging my learning from a very young age. You hold a special place in my memories and in my heart.