Perfectionist Rehab

Michelle Gosselin

Perception is a powerful thing.

I’ve said this before, but I truly struggle with my self-image. I know who I am, in the sense that I know what I value. Likes. Dislikes. Preferences.

I subscribe to continuous improvement. I don’t believe it’s possible to be faultless. I think there is nothing more ethical than trying to do better every day. Make amends. Apologize. Put forth effort to change ourselves and adapt.

The only things that stop growing are dead.

I’m organized. Methodical. Measured. Tactful.

Except when I’m not.

There are days when I’m tapped out. Sapped. Stressed. Depressed. Impatient.

Those days are infrequent, but they are such a stark juxtaposition that I’m sure it’s jarring to witness.

I spend the majority of my time reflecting on my own behavior. The words that I’ve said. The words I didn’t say. The moments I could have been softer. The instances I should have been more forceful.

But the truth is, you can’t please everybody. The natural byproduct of rehabilitating yourself from people pleasing is that people won’t be pleased.

Some people will be pissed.

A hard lesson I’ve learned in my life is that if people react strongly to a boundary you’ve set, it’s proof that the boundary was necessary.

I also believe that perception is reality. When a person makes up their mind about a situation, or a person, any instance fortifies and deepens their conclusions.

But let’s not forget that haters exist.

Haters will see you walk on water and say it’s because you can’t swim.

My children love the Little Blue Truck by Alice Schertle. It’s a sentimental story about friendship and kindness. I’ve read this book a few hundred times at their request. There is one particular section that illustrates the phenomenon that I’m discussing.

“HONK! Yells the dump truck. “Coming THROUGH! I’ve big important things to do. I haven’t got time to spend the day on every duck along the way. Rooooom went the truck around a curve, he saw a puddle and he tried to swerve! Into the mud rolled the big fat truck and his big important wheels got stuck.”

In the story, the Little Blue Truck pushes the dump truck, and in the process gets himself stuck in the muck as well. Little Blue’s friends, a cheerful collection of farm animals, run to help them.

“All together, one! Two! Three! One last push and the trucks were free!”

The moral to this story is quite clear. Everyone needs help sometimes, so pushing other people away because you think they’re inferior will only guarantee that you get stuck in the mud.

I have been perceived as the dump truck, and this is one of the most painful wounds.

I’m a kind person, not a nice one. I won’t say pretty words to get you to like me that I don’t really mean. I’m the first person to discretely offer you a tissue if there’s a booger hanging in your nose. If we disagree about something, I’m up-front about it so that we can resolve the issue.

I’ll also tell you if I’m upset about an interaction we had.

I also expect that relationship to go both ways. I expect that there are times that I will fall short. I understand that sometimes I will say something that’s hurtful, or someone feels is disrespectful.

I’m consumed with self-improvement. I analyze everything I do, and I try my best to leave people and situations better than when I left them.

Perhaps that’s part of the problem.

Plenty of people like to coast through life. They want to live in their realities, and they certainly don’t want someone to challenge their beliefs (no matter how delicately).

I do my best to deliver inspection results from the previous day’s work before 10 am. This allows the supervisors enough time to review the findings and provide feedback to processors before lunch. That way, the staff receive timely feedback and coaching.

I put this immense amount of pressure on myself because I’m trying to be considerate of other people’s time.

And I’ve been accused of being some self-important asshole because I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

I once had a colleague react heavily because I was frustrated with how slow my computer was running. I was muttering to myself and sighing, tapping my foot, and visibly agitated.

“YOU’RE SO IMPATIENT.”

I was taken aback. She clearly believed that I was upset over the system running slowly just because I was having a tantrum.

I was trying to complete a short-fuse tasker. I was stressed because I didn’t know if I could deliver it on time. I didn’t want the recipient to be waiting around for me. I was thinking about the other person’s perspective, and the call they were attending in fifteen minutes. I was stressed because I thought I wasn’t going to be able to help them because the system issues were out of my control.

And she thought I was acting like a petulant child.

I have another colleague who frequently interrupts people mid-sentence to disagree with them. Let’s be so clear that the disagreement isn’t my concern. It’s the dismissal of another human being speaking that bothers me.

She interrupted me in a meeting last week, to immediately contradict something I said. The contradiction, while rude, was also unrelated to the item I was discussing. I was fed up, so I said something.

“I hate when you do that.”

I finished my thought while the air in the room became so tense you could slice it with a knife. In the middle of my explanation, she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

I was beside myself when I left the meeting. I was consumed with worry over how I spoke to her because I was visibly irritated. I could tell through the vibes in the room that people took issue with the fact that I said anything.

This person is often erratic, and it’s perfectly acceptable. It’s one of their quirks. People brush off her rudeness with a smile.

“Oh don’t take it personally, that’s just how she is.”

The injustice.

I’m the kind of person who, for better or worse, doesn’t provide those sorts of allowances. I think that people should be treated respectfully, regardless of demographic or socio-economic status. I’m radically expressive in this matter. I don’t care who you are, or what you look like.

I found out today that multiple people described me as aggressive, hostile, and unprofessional because I told a colleague that I hate when she interrupts.

Isn’t it interesting that reacting to mistreatment is what the focus becomes?

I have to believe that other people have experienced this same situation. I doubt that I’m the only person to go through this.

I’m in cognitive dissonance.