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The Mask of Perfectionism
Stored away in my own private cupboard were a set of about a hundred masks. Each day, I would choose the perfect mask for the occasion, but most days I would dip back into my supply and change them many times. I was never brave enough to show my face, until one day I had the courage to throw them all away.
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I expect you are wondering what sort of injury I had suffered in order to have all these masks. I had developed quite a collection of masks, as I never dared to show my real face to the outside world. I was too embarrassed to reveal my real face for fear of rejection, shock and horror. I never felt able to let people even take a glimpse of the true face, which had hidden all these years. The damage was too shocking to share with anyone, not even my closest friends.
The damage to me was not as a result of a tragic accident. It was simply the result of living with a chronic condition called perfectionism. I thought I had to be the perfect person, to be the perfect wife and mother, student and lover. The trouble was no matter how hard I tried, I just was never good enough, never quite perfect. But oh I tried. Yes I tried.
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| I don’t remember the day when I created my cupboard of masks. It seemed my life was always this way. Perhaps I was actually born with them, who knows, it doesn’t really matter. But there was always one feature on each mask that was the same. It was a perfect smile. That smile beamed out across the room, no matter how severe the tragedy had been. ‘Smiler’ was my name, and no matter what, the smile always had to be seen. It was such a great form of protection for me; it meant that nobody ever questioned what lay behind the mask. |
My masks allowed me to be the perfect entertainer; in fact perhaps I really should have been an actress. After all I acted my life out day by day, and nobody ever knew the real person. I was the obedient child, who did what ever it took to please her parents. No lengths were ever too far to go to, if it meant I would receive a look of appreciation. As I grew up and married, my husband was able to get away with murder, not literally of course. No matter what emotion I felt I could always put on another mask and smile with pride. I thought I wasn’t harming anyone, but later I found out that I was doing so much damage to myself. My children never knew their mother, or not the real one. I did so much for them, others never knew how I could achieve so much in one day. But that is the world of perfectionism.
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One day everything changed. My masks were so heavy and worn out. My whole body could no longer carry the weight of this incredible deception. I broke down and realised that I didn’t want to be an actress any more. I had done this for decades and it was time to change my life.
I packed my masks away and prepared to bear all to the outside world. I went on a long journey of self-discovery. It was the hardest journey of all. There were so many rocks and boulders in my way, but I had to learn to face up to my life, and its many problems. I had to feel my emotions, and no longer run and hide from them. | |
It was such a funny experience as I peeled away my layers of protection. I had not felt real pain or anger, nor had I felt the joys of imperfection. Those first few weeks were like being thrown out to sea on a stormy night in a small boat, which was tossed so high and then so low. Gradually the waters calmed, but every so often the storm would rear its ugly head. Soon I learnt that all these feelings would pass, they might be hard and painful, but they would not last forever.
The changes for my family were even harder. Suddenly the mask was off and the truth was out. There would be no going back, that was for sure. No matter how bad it got, I had to show my face, no matter what. I had always been seen as such a happy person, but now my family found it hard to watch. They thought I was suffering so much pain, and that I had little to gain. But the real truth is that I had never been happier, because today I can be myself. I can show the outside world if I am happy or if I am sad, ecstatic or mad. But to those who loved me, they saw pain and misery as they watched my face emerge. They had never seen the pain I suffered, so how could they judge.
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Months later, gradually my life began to settle down again. My family has accepted me as I am, they have learned to live with the real me, and there is no fear that I will deceive them with my masks. What I say and feel are actually real. |
My perfectionism still tries to rear its ugly head from time to time. But I lash back out at it, until it buries itself back down below. I now accept I will never ever be perfect and neither will anyone on this planet. So I have learnt to accept life as it is and that my best is always good enough.
So to those of you who still hide behind your daily mask, why not thrown them all away and start enjoying the freedom you should rightly have. My masks have gone forever now, and it was the best thing that I ever did.
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If you want help to overcome your perfectionism, I would be delighted to work with you through online counselling. | |
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