Like many of us homebound during the early days of COVID-19, I gained a new hobby in 2020. My passion became embroidery. With the help of YouTube videos, I taught myself how to turn plain fabric into a riot of color.
Chain stitch, lazy daisy, satin stitch, the elusive French knot -- I learned them all, and, eventually, my stitches smoothed out. I graduated from beginner's kits with everything included -- canvas, hoop, needle, thread, instructions -- to sourcing and creating my own designs. I gave some finished products as gifts. Others remain tucked away in a drawer, waiting to become a wall hanging or a tea towel or a small pillow.
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At the dawn of 2023, after admiring other stitchers online, I felt confident enough to tackle a huge project. I would stitch an icon to represent every day of the year, ending 2023 with a visual summary of small and big moments.
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I bought a large piece of linen and a giant hoop. I designated a blank journal as my diary to record daily memories and sketch small illustrations. For 59 days, I kept my promise, stitching icons that represented something from the day: scissors for a haircut, an umbrella for a rainy day, a slice of pizza most likely from a Friday night, a switchblade for one of the days I was reading The Outsiders.
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And then I stopped.
I got a little behind when my chronic migraines were particularly debilitating. I felt overwhelmed by the delay. And then I gave up. My 2023 embroidery journal became a huge flop.
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Because I'm a perfectionist, I couldn't just put the canvas away. No, I left it in the corner of my bedroom, next to my reading and embroidery chair, as a daily reminder of my spectacular failure.
Maybe that resonates with fellow perfectionists.
"While certain aspects of perfectionism can seem beneficial at times, it can actually lead to analysis paralysis or even life paralysis," said Misty Solt, a practicing therapist and a clinical professor with the Southern Methodist University Department of Counseling. "It can trigger this narrative of shame and is linked to stress, exhaustion, anxiety and burnout."
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I would see the looming blank space, feel a little more guilty about not meeting my own expectations and slide one more day away from my grand vision.
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I eventually turned the canvas upside down and then later tucked it away with other unfinished projects. I didn't pick up a needle and thread for 18 months. I had set a lofty goal and couldn't get past my inability to meet it.
Solt suggests that perfectionists learn to adapt their traits as part of setting and achieving goals.
"How can we be aware of ourselves, our thought processes in that process, be kind to ourselves, be intentional about our goals, having accountability with someone else that can check us in both ways -- 'you're being too hard on yourself' and also can encourage us," she said. "How can we [set goals] with a cadence that allows for mistakes and imperfections, and recognizing that as a critical part of growth rather than a failure."
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I eventually realized that I missed creating, doing something that wasn't necessary but brought me joy. I found myself listening to the words that I share with the young people I tutor, trying to apply them to myself, too. Advice such as, "You can do only one thing at a time," and "It's never too late to make a turn in the right direction," and "Don't be so hard on yourself."
So last fall, I quietly stitched the word "joyful" with red thread on a hunter-green sweatshirt. It became part of my Christmas 2024 wardrobe.
With that tiny success, I felt emboldened during my week off from work to start and almost complete a piece designed by one of my favorite embroidery artists. A few stitches are uneven, but I've resisted the urge to pull them out and start again. I'm focused on finishing, mistakes and all, when I feel like it. I've set no deadline.
Kimberlee Flatt, a McKinney counselor and behavior analyst, calls that "the middle space" where you can enjoy the process. She points to research that "distinguishes the difference in people who don't allow themselves the benefit of the reward until they've crossed the finish line versus the person who learns to be proud of themselves to recognize the joy of the process. It's the people who are invested in the process that do better, that are able to manage more goals and conquer more goals versus the finish-line people."
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Though I no longer set New Year's resolutions, I do adopt a word each year. This year's guiding word is intention, and I'm working on applying it to my perfectionist traits -- traits that can serve me well but can also become my worst enemy.
I want to budget my time, effort and resources with intention, guided by my values and goals but not so stringently that mistakes or delays derail me entirely. I am trying to focus on progress and process, open to the part of our journey that doesn't need to be planned. Maybe, while embracing my pandemic hobby again, I'll discover something entirely unexpected, another source of joy.
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