Of Perfectionism

a perfectionist at heart, drained of the joys of childhood

IMAGE SOURCE: pollsb.com

I think I can say with confidence that perfectionism is one particular trait that most Plan II students are somewhat familiar with. Whether we are still perfectionists, or have learned a healthier way to push for excellence, it is not an altogether alien concept. Suicide, on the other hand, seems to be the opposite. That is, until I read just how pervasive that thought is.

Like Ximena and Sadie, I too was an intense perfectionist. For me, this came not only in the form of my academics and view of my appearance and self, but also appeared in my creative outlets. I remember at the lowest period of my life, during some severe family issues that thankfully have been resolved long since, I developed an eating disorder. I was so used to being in some semblance of control of my life, that when all of a sudden my foundations grew shaky, I attacked my distorted bodily vision in order to regain some of that control. If my family couldn't be the perfect, ideal family I had always thought it was, then I myself would prove that I could be perfect. I did that by drastically reducing what I ate.

I'm actually ridiculously surprised at myself at writing about this, because its something I only told my best friend about last summer, but I think its important that I do so. Reading about these issues helped me gain some perspective. I'd like to be clear - I have no mental issues now. I don't think I had any at that time either. I wasn't depressed, just wildly grasping for control. I was in 8th grade, young, and ill-equipped to handle the trouble I was facing. Fortunately, my mother discovered the issue before I could take it too far - in fact, at the same time, a close friend I'd made was in therapy due to her anorexia. That also helped me stop my destructive path towards "perfection" by bringing the issue close to home and close to my heart. I began researching the problem, and armed with knowledge, learned healthier methods by which to deal with things. I shall be eternally grateful that I went through all those things at that time so as to become who I am today - hopefully a much healthier, and assuredly much happier person.

Suicide is never something that has entered my mind. However, I have had close encounters with it. My grandmother once downed a few pills too many... on purpose. She was the last person I'd have expected to consider or even attempt suicide - in fact, right at this moment, she's living a happy, contented, active life. But its safe to say that that revelation rocked MY world. The thing is, these readings dealt mostly with students dealing with depression and suicide. What happens if its your grandmother? "If someone intends to kill him/herself, s/he will communicate this either directly or indirectly" (156). My grandmother lives on the other side of the world, so I personally never had the slightest inkling what was going on. There wasn't much she could communicate to me, or anyone else, and the subject is NEVER broached in Bangladesh. Its simply a cultural stigma.  Except that this occurred in the tumultuous time that I too had a hard time dealing with, so I guess I was a bit wrapped up in things. I think what I've learned though, is the importance of reaching out. Now that I know more about suicide, and have experienced the reality of it, I know that it is vital to hold someone's hand when they feel like they're going under.  

Whoa. I feel like taking a breather - that was kind of intense stuff, and I'm still in a daze that I'm about to post this to share. However, I guess that's the nature of this subject - to provoke us into revealing what we don't usually think or talk about.

I can probably pinpoint the exact moment in my life when I decided to kick my perfectionist habit for good. Like many things, it related to my artwork. I've always been obsessed with art. I love it, and I love making it - I love the entire process of expressing myself through a visual means in a language only I can, and watching others come to interpret it in any fashion that they want. In 9th grade, I was in my first high school art class, and it was much more intense than any art class I'd been in before. I was surrounded by people with extraordinary talent, and I was becoming increasingly frustrated with my general inadequacy. The Healthy Striver "enjoys process as well as outcome" (165). I was all about outcome. I had a vision in my head, and it was a perfect mental image that I could not, for the life of me, express on paper. Nothing turned out right. I was getting stuck in what I termed 'artist's block.'

Then one day, I had a revelation. It wasn't of the angel's singing, holy light flooding down type, but more of the unlocking of your heart type. When you just realize a truth that you'd known all along. What I realized was that by pursuing perfection in my art, I was forgetting to have fun. Instead of allowing my creativity to be challenged and forced to grow, I was caging it up. One day, my teacher came around and squirted horribly incorrect tubes of paint onto our paintings. As we stared at her in shock, she shrugged cheerfully and quipped, "Work with it! Make it beautiful!"

And I did. I let go. I had fun. I made art.

This is me with 2 of my art projects in 9th grade.