At my childhood home earlier this summer, I looked through a box of papers my mom saved for me. There were documents from all stages of my life: Elementary school book reports with ornate covers, a 4th-grade science award, junior high Spanish honor society certificate, my high school varsity basketball letter, and so on. Nothing too exciting, honestly, but going through it was a trip through so many memories.

One stack of documents, however, caught my attention. It was a pile of report cards from my earliest days in school, back when they were done by hand and included behavior ratings, from U (Unsatisfactory) to S (Satisfactory) to N (Needs Improvement), and a pile of comments, listed in number form, such as #4: Obeys rules, or #15: Follows directions, or #22: Does well on written assignments, or #30 Exceeds requirements. None of these comments were surprising; I'd always been well-behaved in class.

But one thing was especially shocking: My grades.

I have long suffered under the self-imposed cult of perfectionism, and one core tenet of this religion is that my grades were perfect. This turns out to not have been true.

Sure, the cards contained many A's and numbers corresponding to positive feedback, but I was surprised to see more than a few Bs. Of course, a B is nothing to be ashamed of, but they did feel like a chip in what I remembered as my unmarred Perfect Academic Record.

Sitting on the porch at my mom’s house, surrounded by plaques, medals, and certificates lauding my academic successes, I felt a little dizzy. Maybe it was the humidity, but I think it was more about the realization that perhaps the flawless student I believed myself to be was simply a persona I'd created. A persona that gave me the courage I lacked to leave home and start on my own.

At 18, I started my freshman year at Northwestern, 1200 miles from my family. I charged ahead with the enthusiasm that Persona afforded me, but deep down, I was filled with self-doubt. My four years there were challenging and successful academically, too, and I was happy at NU.

But during those years at school, whenever I'd find myself struggling a bit in class, I remember scolding myself: You're a straight-A student! You can do this! That mantra was enough to get me back on track. Drawing on that core 'truth' of perfection has driven me throughout my life.

So, as I sat on that porch drinking wine with Mom in the heat of a Florida evening, I let the reality of my past wash over me, and I wondered: If I was wrong about being perfect, what else am I wrong about? How else has this Persona of Perfection clouded who I could be?
These questions followed me home to Chicago, where I have pondered them for weeks.

I began my personal Myth-busting exercise with the belief that I am always just a little late. I think this one came from being in a long relationship with someone who had a 'loose relationship with time,' and somehow I never recovered from this selfish habit. It's always bothered my incredible, adorably punctual husband (whom I met when I accidentally arrived EARLY for an event he was also attending, hello, karma). So I decided this, too, could be a fallacy.

My kids are in various summer camps that require some travel via public transportation to get them there, and that requires some planning on my part. I started building in extra time so we'd arrive not in the nick of time but actually a few minutes early. They loved it and I loved the relief of an early, low-stress drop-off. I was on time (even early!) to pick them up so they weren't the last ones roaming the field. It was lovely, and I'm a convert to the freedom this extra time affords us.

Next came the theory that I could only exercise in the morning. I traced this back to my 20-something working days when I would run or lift weights early in the morning in the workout room of my apartment building before showering and boarding the train downtown to sit in an office cubicle from 9 am – 5 pm or later. After those tedious days, I was exhausted, mentally and physically, and an evening workout rarely seemed to happen. In a post-pandemic world, my home office is in the basement, and I’m lucky that my work schedule is infinitely flexible. I block time for pickups and drop-offs as necessary, so why not for lunch and a workout (as many co-workers do) to break up the day?

Last week, I started taking mid-day breaks, and I found this new schedule energizing and inspiring. I still rose early, but instead of rushing through a workout routine with one eye on the clock, I did a short meditation session, made lunch for myself and the kids, emptied the dishwasher, and drank coffee leisurely while NPRs Morning Edition kept me company. I looked forward to working out and the healthy lunch after that felt like a reward for a morning's work well-done vs. a pre-dawn penance.

Two down, how many more 'truths' about myself to go?

What if I had time to do the things I've always wanted to do, but made excuse after excuse to avoid failing? What if I asked for help when needed instead of burning out or hiding behind a mask of perfection?

Anything is possible.

Busting these first two myths is just the beginning. After all, it might still be true that I can Exceed the Requirements for creating a happy life, even if I'm no longer perfect.

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This article originally appeared in the August 2023 Issue of Fete Lifestyle Magazine.