By Emanuel Maxim

Perfectionism often wears a clever disguise. It shows up as dedication. High standards. Wanting to “do your best.” At first glance, these qualities seem positive, even admirable. But underneath, perfectionism can quietly turn into something far more painful: constant self-criticism, fear of failure, all-or-nothing thinking, and the exhausting belief that “we are only worthy when we perform perfectly”.

Many people who struggle with perfectionism don’t realise they are carrying it. They just feel stuck, anxious before tasks, disappointed in themselves no matter how hard they try, or unable to rest without guilt. Mental health professionals see this pattern often: clients who push themselves relentlessly while feeling deeply inadequate at the same time. The emotional toll can be heavy: burnout, low self-esteem, anxiety, and a sense that nothing is ever “enough.”

Some time ago, I witnessed this up close in a powerful moment with my son.

When “Being Your Best” Stops Being Helpful

When he was 14, my son decided to take up kickboxing. What began as a healthy curiosity quickly turned into commitment. He trained hard, improved fast, and before long he was invited to join his club’s fight team. Couple of competitions followed, some wins, some losses. He handled them well at first, learning along the way.

Then came his third tournament.

As the day went on and he watched teammates step into the ring, something shifted. His nerves crept in, and his confidence slipped away. I heard the familiar voice of perfectionism start to speak:

“If I’m not at my best, I’m going to fail.”

“If I lose, I’m a crap fighter.”

“I don’t deserve to be here unless I do everything right.”

“If I don’t fight perfectly, I’ll let everyone down.”

This is what perfectionism looks like in real time: the belief that anything less than perfect equals failure and that failure means we are the failure.

When it became clear that he was overwhelmed, I took him outside the arena for a walk to get some space.

Finding Ground in the Middle of the Storm

With just over an hour to go before his fight, we stopped in a small grassy patch. I asked him to take off his shoes and stand barefoot on the grass, a simple grounding practice to help bring him back into his body. He focused on slow, deep breathing, feeling the earth beneath his feet.

He told me he felt nauseous, so anxious he thought he might throw up. I could see how tightly fear and pressure had wrapped around him. The fear wasn’t just about losing a fight, it was about being seen as weak, not good enough compared to his teammates, not measuring up.

So, I said the simplest thing I could think of: “If you need to throw up, then throw up.”

And he did.

Afterward, once his body settled a little, I asked him to lie down on the grass and breathe deeply. We slowed things right down. When his breathing levelled out, we shifted to something different, stating “I am” affirmations out loud to gently move his focus away from fear and back toward strength:

“I am resilient.”

“I am brave.”

“I am showing up.”

At first, we said them together quietly. Then he began repeating them more confidently:

“I am brave.”

“I don’t give up.”

“I am relentless.”

Slowly, his posture changed. His voice grew stronger. The shaking steadied. Then a small smile appeared, followed by something surprising and wonderfully human.

He suddenly started yelling:

“I am David motherf***in’ Goggins!”

Repeatedly, between laughter and fierce determination:

“I’m scared, but I won’t give up. I am David motherf***in’ Goggins!”

“I might not be the best, but I’ve put in the work, I won’t run away.”

As we walked back toward the arena, he continued his animated self-talk to the amusement of people passing by. His body had changed. His energy had shifted. And most importantly, his mindset had softened from needing to be perfect to simply needing to “show up”.

From Perfection to Presence

What struck me most was that his victory didn’t begin in the ring – it began the moment he released the grip of perfectionism. He stopped trying to be flawless and instead allowed himself to be human: scared and capable at the same time.

He walked into the ring grounded, not perfect. He won the first fight. Then the second to claim the gold medal for his category that day.

But what truly mattered wasn’t the medal, it was the lesson:

Confidence didn’t come from being perfect. It came from accepting “good enough” and showing up anyway.

This is the same shift that so many of us need to make in our own lives.

Moving Toward Equilibrium

In counselling and coaching, we often talk about equilibrium – emotional balance. Finding the middle ground between striving and softness, ambition and acceptance. Perfectionism pulls us to one extreme: constant pressure with no compassion.

Learning to move forward differently begins with a few gentle practices:

Notice the inner critic. When you hear “I should do this perfectly” or “If I fail, I’m nothing” – pause. Ask yourself whether you would speak this way to someone you care about.

Challenge all-or-nothing thinking. Life is not pass or fail, it’s growth. Most things exist in the grey spaces between success and failure.

Use grounding when emotions surge. Feel your feet on the floor. Slow your breath. Bring your nervous system back to calm before tackling the mental spiral.

Practice compassionate self-talk.Try statements like:

“I am doing the best I can.”

“I don’t have to be perfect to be worthy.”

 “Showing up is enough today.”

Reach out. Talking with a therapist, coach, or trusted friend can help untangle perfectionism’s deep roots and replace harsh self-judgment with understanding.

Embracing “Good Enough”

Perfectionism tells us we must earn our value. Equilibrium reminds us we already have it.

Being human means being imperfect, making mistakes, resting when we need to, feeling scared sometimes, and still moving forward.

“Good enough” isn’t failure. It is freedom. It gives us the space to breathe, grow, and show up authentically rather than in fear.

Sometimes strength isn’t about being flawless.

Sometimes strength is standing on the grass barefoot, breathing through the nerves, finding in fear the courage to step forward anyway, and maybe even shout “I am David motherf***ing’ Goggins!”