“Wherever perfectionism is driving, shame is riding shotgun. Perfectionism is not about healthy striving, which you see all the time in successful leaders, it’s not about trying to set goals and being the best we can be, perfectionism is basically a cognitive behavioral process that says if I look perfect, work perfect, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid shame, ridicule, and criticism. It’s a defense mechanism.”

— Brene Brown

I'm not exactly sure when my safe world was rocked by the realization that my life wasn't going perfectly, but I do remember the day I hit rock bottom.

For several months my life had slowly been spinning out of control -- and I was helplessly watching it get worse and worse. I had worked for years to do everything right, to be perfect, but it was a grand illusion. A joke. All my worst fears were happening right before my eyes and there seemed nothing I could do to stop them.

I had lived under the false belief that if I did it all perfectly, everything would all work out perfectly. I hadn't yet learned that attempting to control my world would not lead to perfection, it would lead to disappointment, helplessness and eventually a deep sadness. It didn't help me escape the shame, ridicule or criticism I so despised either, no matter how much additional effort I applied to doing it right.

Worse yet I was attempting to do it all perfectly with an expectation-- an if... then kind of a thing. Always pinning my happiness on some future thing meant that I never actually got to be happy or satisfied in the moment, it was just a constant uphill battle that never arrived at perfect.

I thought that if I did everything right, beyond criticism, followed the rules, then... I would be accepted, appreciated, and loved for who I was. But that never really happened. The real me was hidden under so many layers of thinking I'm not good enough, even I didn't know who I was anymore. I was always looking ahead and striving to be more, to do it better, to be beyond reproach. That meant that any compliment I did receive was immediately negated by my mean voice, which never even allowed two seconds of time to take in the warm fuzzy feelings a compliment should bring. I was always three steps ahead and thinking about how I could have (should have) done it better. Or how I would get it 100% right next time.

My mean voice eventually graduated to pointing out flaws in things and people around me. Even that felt like rejection--I heard my mean voice giving up on me, as if I wasn't worth trying to "fix" anymore. I easily slipped into the persona of a glass half empty bitch.

Being able to see and sense my own flaws and imperfections made it natural to wait and watch for that same criticism from others. And if I was "right" about my wrongness, it gave my mean voice more fuel.

Deep down I think I knew I could never really be perfect, and yet that fervently remained my goal.

Giving my best effort should have been good enough. Perfection is the great illusion. To think otherwise, to live otherwise, indicates we are operating from an unhealthy place. My need for control, to be right and insulated from criticism caused my perfectionism to spill outward to everyone around me. It crossed boundaries into other people's space. It got ugly.

The worst part is that I could not get off the train. I could not let go, even though I knew that life would be so much easier if I just stopped trying to be perfect. On I plowed, so darn unhappy, so mean to myself, so scared that I would lose control and end up a failure --which in retrospect I kind of did anyway. Because there is nothing quite like an epic fail to grasp the lesson that nothing is ever perfect, even if it sometimes looks like it from the outside.

I know that I am "judged" a little every time I lead a yoga class, by someone like the 'me' I used to be. They will find flaws, mistakes, and truthfully so will I, only now I don't let them stop me from moving forward. When I forget the second side of a series of poses, or call out left when I mean right, or fall over--- I don't dwell on the mistake, I laugh it off. I make a joke.

I am finally able to recognize that I am human and I give myself a little grace. My best effort is all I really have, and that will have to be good enough. Even for me.

Related links: http://www.fastcompany.com/3026324/leadership-now/do-you-have-the-good-kind-of-perfectionism

 When is the last time you were able to do something so totally joyful that you lost yourself in that moment?

As adults we sometimes squash our own joy. We over think, feel vulnerable and hold back from doing what we might otherwise do for fear of being rejected or ridiculed by others.  Thoughts of do I look silly, will actually make us feel silly. We become inhibited by the thought that someone watching may form an unfavorable opinion of us.

At what age do we go from the joy of doing something -just for the fun of it - to worrying about what we might look like to someone else and denying ourselves that joy?

Have you ever watched a kid dance? Freely, openly, moving whatever body part feels right to the music? Have you judged them or simply appreciated (even celebrated) their obvious joy in that honest expression?

I once had the opportunity to dance my heart out in the middle of Calder plaza at lunchtime with a friend. At first we questioned if we should GROOVE with just the two of us because we felt on “display”.  My inner voice had started its chatter, the one about what if someone is watching, especially when my friend verbalized the same question. But immediately I heard a louder, stronger voice that said “You’ve been looking forward to this. It is a beautiful day, everything is set up. Just dance your heart out. Who cares what anyone else thinks — they’ll just be envious they aren’t out there dancing with you.”

And so we did. We danced, laughed, moved around in joyful expression and spread our arms to the sky in delight. It was heavenly, especially on a lunch hour.

The reality is that many people were indeed watching us — it is after all a natural focal point to hundreds of windows from office buildings that look down on Calder Plaza — yet it didn’t matter one bit. We didn’t pay any attention. We didn’t let our thoughts run away with the moment. We let our inner joy take the stage. Afterward a tourist taking pictures of the Calder asked if we would dance again so he could take our picture, and of course, we did. I wish we had that picture he took!

On that particular day I opened up to joy, and I am so thankful I did, as a life altering seed of change took root in me.

Joy is contagious. Make sure you not only cultivate it, you remember to help spread it.