Rule #17: Live for stories, not perfection

Perfection is boring and we all know it

I have always been a competitive person. I was the youngest of three children and often played sports with my older brother’s friends. I was the smallest and worst player at every sport and they made fun of me for it. One day, while playing with friends my own age, I discovered I was better than most of them. Why? My brother’s group had unintentionally trained me: playing against people my age and size felt easy and fun. Soon sports became my favorite thing to do. I discovered I loved to win (and hated to lose) and I’ve been a high achiever ever since.

The surprise, which took me decades to realize, was that needing to win has many traps that lead to unhappiness. These traps are hard to see because American culture promises so much to winners. We’re told that if we win professionally all of the good things in life come with it: happiness, wealth, fulfillment, friends, and more. But I learned chasing perfection, by itself, rarely provides those things. Instead I realized that most high achievers are not fulfilled, happy or satisfied with life.

This seems counterintuitive, but I’m convinced high achievers are perhaps the most insecure people among us. Competitive people behave the way they do because without those daily victories they struggle to accept themselves. They need constant reminders, promotions or media attention to feel good about who they are. Despite how much public praise they receive, for many, achievement is a way to mask self-loathing, depression, anxiety or shame. Perfectionism and ambition can be coping mechanisms, with the unusual bonus that other people reward them for coping in this way.

One good question about self-esteem is this: can you love yourself even if people in your life think you are average in your achievements? High achievers defiantly say no. They need to prove something to other people every day. What they don’t realize is that proving themselves to others is just a cover story. The real work they are avoiding is to figure out why they can convince others of their worth but are never able to convince themselves.

In a previous rule, I explained why it’s good to have a hobby you are bad at. It’s a way to make sure that the pleasure comes from the activity itself, rather than from proficiency. I find it telling that the Oxford English Dictionary defines fun this way:

“light-hearted pleasure, enjoyment, or amusement; boisterous joviality or merrymaking; entertainment”.

Does this sound like life as a high-achieving perfectionist to you? It’s hard to be competitive and light-hearted at the same time (although I’m learning it is possible and rewarding). I once heard Michael Jordan say in an interview that for all the praise he has gotten for his achievements, his biggest struggle in life was his inability to turn that competitiveness off.

The implication was competitiveness can be corrosive not only to fun, but to intimacy, friendship and community. He might keep winning at poker or golf games, but lose at everything else. High achievement contains within it a kind of socially acceptable narcissism, as hard work, or fame, can be an accepted excuse for being an absent parent, brother or friend. It’s no wonder famous people have such a rough track record of divorces, suicides and drug-addictions.

When I was younger, I lived for victories. I wanted achievements and recognition. Increasingly, I live to make stories. To put myself in situations where something worthy of becoming a favorite memory can take place, for me or for other people. Many of my most cherished memories are when things went wrong in some way. Getting lost in a foreign city with a companion. Cooking dinner for friends where the meal I made went horribly, entertainingly, wrong. I want more stories that can be told over and over again, and are funny in a way that celebrates life and connection. Often now I see chasing perfection in life as shallow, boring and isolating. Making stories, even if they come from mistakes, is far more fun.