“Wherever you go, there you are.”
—Jon Kabat-Zinn
I look forward to my annual “friends” ski trip out west yearly. It’s our chance to reconnect, which I cherish after a several-year hiatus.
We enjoy the delights of the slopes, soak in hot tubs with cold beverages apres-ski, and sample all the local grub. On this trip, I indulged in some of the most enormous lamb chops I have ever seen! Overall, it’s a beautiful time to reconnect and unwind.
But this year, an unwanted guest barged in on the trip.
As I descended the first slope, I began to hear the critical voice of my inner perfectionist, “You should take a lesson. You aren't skiing very well. You should be skiing on more challenging terrain.”
Last year, I felt fear and discomfort after not having skied for three years. It was understandable since I was out of practice. But now, these perfectionist tendencies were trying to ruin my fun. It was annoying. “Can’t we both take a vacation?”
After a gorgeous blue-sky ski day, I called my husband for some support. He reminded me that I was “on vacation.” While this was obvious, my brain struggled to turn off my impossibly high standard to do everything well.
I am an intermediate skier who has taken a number of lessons over the past thirty years—I ski, on average, five days a year. Yet a self-critical loop played in my head, “If I don’t take the lessons, I risk looking ridiculous. If I don’t take the lessons, I risk injury. If I don’t take the lessons… if I don’t take the lessons… if… Is that what you want?”
It began to feel like this self-set standard of constant improvement was a noose around my neck. After speaking with my husband, I recognized that I would prefer to spend time skiing with my friends than take a lesson to combat the “what ifs.”
I was ok with skiing, just good enough. I allowed myself to ask my friends for pointers. As it turned out, they welcomed the opportunity. Soon enough, I was gliding down the slopes with grace and ease.
I realized then that I had forgotten the most important thing: my original goal for making this trip to Colorado. It was, in fact, to have fun with my friends. But, defining ”fun” to a perfectionist is usually met with striving to do things well, learning, and improving… and this was beginning to feel heavy. Perhaps, I needed a break from this constant state of improvement.
I contemplated my husband’s suggestion: “Just ski and enjoy it.”
It seemed so simple.
Why is it so difficult to do?
What was wrong with me?!
This awareness brought me to my next thought: nothing was wrong with me except that I defined myself by what I do well.
This tendency resulted in a life full of growth, opportunity, failure, and success. It’s not a bad thing. Instead of fighting this inner drive for perfection, I considered allowing it to ride along with me so we could enjoy this vacation together. By asking my friends for pointers, I was improving, learning, and enjoying my time with them. Everyone was winning!
The more I made friends with this desire to do things well; it seemed to lose its power over me.
During this vacation, I realized that the priority was never really about skiing—it was about getting away and spending time with my friends in every capacity that I could. I skied down blue trails, snowshoed over mountains, and felt the freedom in that choice. My friends offered me feedback when my upper body moved around too much, and we laughed together when one of them quipped that I “still ski like a tennis player.”
What a radical concept to decide, at any moment, what standard I wanted to live by.
I am not tied to one standard of perfection or constant improvement.
As we enter the rebirth of Spring, I feel my identity has expanded in a lighter, more flexible way. The inner perfectionist will always be with me, but she can also be the loyal friend who—when asked nicely—can take a back seat and let me drive.