For the longest time, the talk around perfectionism to me was always very… unhelpful. I think that’s the right word. I am a certified perfectionist. And have been trying to overcome it for a long time. So I’ve read and listened to a lot of talk about it. But time and time again, there was always something that didn’t click. The advice is always the same: recognise and then take action. Act despite the fear. Act despite the friction. Act and fail intentionally. And it’s not bad advice. But there was always something that was missing for me. I get an itch on my brain. It tells me that something is not quite right, but I can’t put my finger on it, just yet. I guess this is my gut feeling. He simply hasn’t learn all the words he needs to communicate better with me. When I was reading Refuse to Choose by Barbara Sher, one line made everything fall into place:
Wherever you find a perfectionist, a critic is not far away.
Barbara Sher, Refuse to Choose p. 42
Barbara was, to me, the first person to actually dot the i’s. She not only clearly pointed out where I should look to find the start of my perfectionism, but also educated those who don’t suffer from it on where the problem lies. And that’s what was missing.
Perfectionism is often portrayed as one’s fault. It’s my fault that I’m a perfectionist. I choose to have these crazy high standards. Funny… I don’t have them for other people. Strange, isn’t it? But in fact, I didn’t choose to be a perfectionist. This is a coping mechanism. A way my brain developed to protect me. I need to be a perfectionist because that’s the only way to avoid failing. Or at least, that’s what my brain thinks. So why am I to blame?
However, perfectionism doesn’t stem from things going wrong. It comes from the criticism you receive when it does. It’s not because I failed that I became a perfectionist. If I fail, I try again. I learned one way how to NOT make a light bulb. Instead, it comes from when you are shamed, criticised, judged, mocked for your failure. It feels like a stab straight to the heart. You know it didn’t work out, and you are ready to try again. But while you are down, getting ready to pick yourself up, people kick you. And you don’t want to be kicked. You don’t want to feel that pain again. So you try your hardest to avoid being in that situation again. To not give an opportunity to those people to kick you again. And so the perfectionism tells you to do it perfectly or not at all. Whatever you do, don’t be down again.
But do you get it? It’s not me. I was taught to think this way. I was pushed to think this way. It’s about survival, about protecting myself while harming myself. Twisted, I know. Human psychology is fascinating for this very reason. And I think this is what really grinds my gears when it comes to talking about perfectionism. Pointing out that someone is a perfectionist is still criticising them, in this case, in the opposite direction. Either way, I’m doing something wrong.
Meanwhile, Barbara clearly points out, “this is not about the person, it’s about others”. The problem lies in how others interact with you. How they deposit their insecurities, fears, jealousy, pettiness, arrogance onto you. They place this perfectionist monster in your mind and go their merry way. They have their own problems, I’m sure of it, but if I didn’t dirty up these plates, why do I need to wash the dishes? Sadly, I have to because they turn their problems into my problems.
I don’t think anyone has shown me any compassion or care to understand where my perfectionism comes from. I don’t want to be the best. Never wanted. My grades in school show that. I was good, and that was always enough for me. And people tend to be so caught up in the idea of what they think perfectionism is, they don’t stop to ask for the why. To look for the critic. And even those who suffer from perfectionism need to ask these same questions. Why am I this way? Why do I think this way? Because understanding where it comes from can then help to stop feeding the source.
Inner voices
While reading one of the newest newsletters from Veronica Roth, published on her Substack, I read something that resonated with me deeply. With the growing popularity of her debut series, Divergent, she had to deal with a lot of criticism. Thousands of people were reading her books, as I did, and thousands more were hating it, like I wasn’t.
The side effect of a series being far-reaching like Divergent was is that the people who don’t like your work will keep saying so. And the people who hated Divergent? They really hated it, and often go out of their way to tell me why…
Veronica Roth, “Do I Like It? Reflecting on Divergent After 15 Years“, 13th January 2026
What Roth did with all that negativity was to absorb it, even if she didn’t realise and with enough “evidence” she started to believe it as a fact.
[…] the easiest way to survive this negativity was to start agreeing with it. If I agree with it, it can’t hurt me, right?
Veronica Roth, “Do I Like It? Reflecting on Divergent After 15 Years“, 13th January 2026
I’ve said his words as well. If I’m my worst critic, then there is nothing that anyone can say that will hurt me because I’ve said it worse. Just like when I’m down, instead of allowing other people to kick me, I kick myself instead. Then their kicks won’t hurt me. I’m already numb, but this doesn’t create better people, more hardworking people. This destroys self-esteem. It kills who I am.
Her inner voice became the same as those who hurt her. You see, that voice telling her that her early work sucked isn’t hers. It’s a projection of every negative review that pushed past her boundaries. Some people can be very unkind and even cruel. There is a big lack of empathy in this world, and that leads to people who hurt hurting others. Who told you that your opinion, because that’s what it is, is more important? So important in fact that you feel the right to tell it to my face? This is something we should all say more often. Because most of the time, people are not leaving constructive criticism. They are just being mean. And if you absorb even one drop of it, you are the one who has to clean up that mess. The mess they made out of pride and pettiness.
Your inner critic is not you. That voice was taught to you, or you had to develop it to shield yourself. But it’s not you. Look at how you talk to your friends. Do you use that voice? I don’t use mine. Mine is reserved for myself alone. So how can I have two voices? I don’t, one is a lie. This is why when you search for self-compassion exercises, it often asks the question of how you talk to your friends. Would you say that to a friend? That inner critic arrived when you needed protection, but it’s a lie. It turned into a coping mechanism that is nothing but a numbing agent. If you don’t feel your hand, you can’t hurt your finger. It’s to keep you in a prison. A prison someone else built. Someone who has zero empathy for you. They didn’t care about your feelings. They only wanted to feed their pathetic egos.
It appears Roth only developed that inner critic towards her past work. I’m assuming it didn’t grow to perfectionism since she doesn’t mention it in the rest of the article. In the same way she developed that voice to try and deflect some of the pain, so does a perfectionist. It’s all about avoiding pain. Not the pain of failure, but of being judged. Of feeling like nothing you ever do is right. And that is taught. You don’t learn that on your own. Someone, somewhere, somewhen was/is the critic. Even simply witnessing someone being overly critical and judgemental about someone else can be enough to start creating that inner critic. You know that person has some crazy high standards, and if you want to match them, that’s where you need to go.
Perfectionism also goes hand in hand with validation seeking. Because that’s what the perfectionist is always trying to do, to win the approval of that inner voice, of that critic. But it’s never good enough. It will never be good enough. Something Amie McNee gets right in her book, We Need Your Art, is that perfectionism is self-fulfilling. You failed? You weren’t perfect, that’s why. And you leave it going for long enough, and suddenly you try less and less. Why try? You’re going to fail. You’re not perfect, far from it. You are not ready. And all of this because some bitch didn’t mind her own business. That’s why when I read Barbara’s words, “Wherever you find a perfectionist, a critic is not far away.” I wanted to kiss this woman. To give her one big hug and say thank you ( I’m guessing she might be reading these words now. They do have internet upstairs, don’t they?).
So yes, this talk about perfectionism revolts me in various ways. But I’m glad it does. It’s about time I set my foot down and stop taking shit from other people. I don’t want to be a perfectionist anymore. I never wanted to in the first place. I don’t think anyone wants to be a perfectionist. Once you realise it, you are already one. Unfortunately, it’s one long and ongoing battle. I hope one day I can say that I’ve beaten it. But who knows? The most important right now is to DO despite how I feel. To move. To keep going. To create. To know that voice is a lie. And if you have one, I hope you know that too.
