a shitshow's guide to breaking up with perfectionism

+ 3 books that changed my life

Learning how to let people down set me free. This may seem odd, because I am and continue to be your friendly neighborhood fuck up. I have a laundry list of mistakes made, with a new one added to the roster daily, and some that I will likely be taking to the grave. In any case, my becoming was catalyzed by grappling with the idea of perfectionism and the concept of letting people down. Ironically, these concepts arrived in my life at a point when, for all intents and purposes, I was a disappointment and a failure. I think a lot of the time when we talk about perfectionism, we think of really orderly, academic, type-A people. You can probably call one to mind. The ever stressed, to-do list addicted, over functioning over achievers. I used to resent them. I used to resent what I heard as constant lamenting that they’re never good enough while being totally exceptional, and frankly, making the rest of us look bad.

When my therapist recommended me a few books about perfectionism and about disappointing people, I literally laughed. I was experiencing homelessness, having risky sex, making really impulsive decisions, couldn't hold a job, and was in chaotic relationships. I thought, "Perfectionism is not a part of this soup. I am a failure. I am a high school dropout. I am a mess." It felt wholly irrelevant to me. I was a no call, no show, frequently hungover, broke disaster.

However, because I can’t say no to a new book, I followed her advice. My love of reading and my natural curiosity towards how humans think, feel and operate have saved my life, more times than I can count and this is absolutely one of those times. I read the books, and I felt my belief systems unravel.

I realized that from a very early age, I had the word "lazy" attached to me from my upbringing, and it ultimately became something I saw in myself. I remember words like “initiative” and “motivate!” ringing in my ears every time I fell short, forgot a chore, up until I frankly stopped turning in work and showing up in my life in general. I occupied a state of absence in my adolescence - absent minded, absent from home, and eventually absent from class, and school entirely. My parents, family and teachers often identified this continuity error - how can someone so brilliant be so…..unproductive.

My potential became an albatross. I was once an earnest, hand raising, gifted and talented elementary schooler. I devoured encyclopedias at age 7. My gifts of language, intellect, writing and “potential” followed me into adulthood, like a curse. I would smash an interview or dazzle at parties, perform really well for the first weeks of a job or the first months of a friendship, and then something would go wrong. I would ghost, no call, no show, or something would blow up in my face. I felt like a fraud. The very skills that would get me through the door, or attract people or opportunities to me began to feel false; creating an identity crisis. Jamila, the fake - charismatic, sharp, attentive, funny. I saw the failure, the unavailable, the irresponsible and the disappointment as my true self. Assigning and maligning all my best qualities to the imposter, the infiltrator. When this would happen, I would just flee the scene. There was no conflict resolution for me. I’d disappear when I wasn’t able to sustain what I perceived as the “illusion". A crack would show, and I’d vanish. I would move on and try again somewhere else. This was a cycle I lived in for many years of my late teens and early twenties. It was very lonely, scary, and sad, and I never paused to question where these expectations were coming from.

Unconsciously, deep distrust of myself was developing, feeding off the self fulfilling cycle of this fear saturated existence I had created. I didn't trust my decision-making, my body, my wants, or my needs. I didn't trust myself to keep myself safe at all. This really affected my self-esteem and overall sense of self-worth. When I explored deeply and read about perfectionism and the fear of disappointing people, I realized that avoidance and self-sabotage are very much part of that soup. I wouldn't go back to clarify a no-show at work because I already felt so worthless and afraid of failure, and I had no resilience for rejection. That version of me, imperfect or flawed, didn’t align with the person I showed in the beginning, who was so on point. A mistake was never just a mistake — it was the unraveling of my entire identity, a confrontation with the truth of my fraudulent goodness. I couldn’t stand the idea that those identities didn’t reconcile. I couldn’t handle the humiliation of letting someone down and being seen as diminished in someone else's eyes. I couldn’t handle the role I played in slaughtering my own darlings.

Self sabotage became nearly second nature. Things in my life got worse, and my anxiety increased. I’ve slept in an ex boyfriends car. One time, I left an unpaid tab at the bar I worked at the same night I called out sick, while underage. Read that again. I struggled with truth-telling because I couldn’t tolerate the loss of control that would come with explaining my situation, especially when it was so different from my peers or colleagues. Even though on the surface my life seemed the opposite of what a perfectionist’s life would be, the level of shame and avoidance I was engaging in aligned with beliefs around productivity, self-worth, and my inability to reconcile my imperfections with the mess my life was, the mess that I felt I was.

I was also incredibly punishing around my decision-making. I ended up in bad relationships and various stages of burnout. I couldn’t pick up phone calls or stay in touch with people. I couldn’t manage life, feeling it unfolded at a pace I couldn’t keep up with. I saw myself as a child or teenager in my mind, never feeling grown up, perpetually feeling out of place. I always felt like an impostor, on the brink of being found out. Even when I obtained some stability, I still had avoidance issues. I was late to things, easily overwhelmed, and often dropped out of projects, teams, or friend groups.

After a lot of work with my therapist, I realized my brain was working overtime at a critical time in my development to keep me alive, leaving no energy to manage shame around imperfection, conflicts, or priorities. Come to find out, being ashamed or taking accountability takes a lot of calories, among other things I was absolutely lacking at the time. When I started to honor my need for rest and separate myself from others’ perceptions, things began to change. I started to communicate more clearly about my needs. I found out I had autism, immune disorders, and endometriosis—conditions I had ignored because they fed into my sense of wrongness and imperfection. My very body became a site of failure and betrayal.

This led to a larger process of identity deconstruction. I learned to say no to jobs, treatment, and societal expectations I didn’t want. Ideas of gender, survival, an over reliance on control and secrecy peeled back. By pruning away external pressures, I began to understand my true identity. When all performance, shame, and expectations are removed, what remains underneath is one’s true self. This is a terrifying but essential place to reach.

Staying close to myself and embodying my true identity, despite the consequences, brought significant changes. I lost friends and faced family friction, but I also found fulfillment and closer alignment with my desires. My art, relationships, and conversations transformed. I felt safer trying new things, trusted myself more, and set clearer boundaries. I felt safer being seen. I didn’t brace for punishment whenever a crack was exposed. I came to become an expert in my own pain, learning the names of my fears and offering them freely to people around me, allowing them to shoulder the burden of them with me.

In our culture, becoming is often seen as a destination, which is a brutal and unkind expectation. Most pain and suffering exist in the "during," the space between wanting change and achieving it. I’ve started to see becoming as an ongoing process rather than a destination. It’s not my job to become something; my job is to occupy the state of becoming with intentionality and direction, experimenting with myself as long as I’m alive. I also realize that I had completely disconnected from the people who were trying, earnestly, desperately to love me. Nobody wanted me perfect; they wanted me there, present in their lives. Nobody wanted me unbroken, unscarred; they wanted the opportunity to see me fully and love me for who I was.

I understand now that my best qualities are mine, as much as any other part. I understand that i am not coercing people into loving me, or seeing my brilliance. I humbly accept that I cannot be anything but what I am in a given moment, and that I was actually very bad at pretending to be. I can use my embodied self as my north star, and come into deeper alignment more with my true self. I can make mistakes, and then make new choices to live and feel better. This mindset has given me more capacity for self-forgiveness and awareness of others. It has relieved the pressure of constantly striving to be something I’m not, and feeling like I’m failing in every direction.

Every second I exist, I’m fulfilling the role of being myself. I have the right to enjoy it and be intentional with it, treating myself with the same care I would want in my relationships with others. I don’t believe my job is to be perfect, or that I am responsible for the opinions of others. I believe my job is to be Jamila Bradley for the rest of my life, and find every way I can to make it less painful, less lonely, more honest, and more mine — while forgiving myself every step of the way.

in kinship,

Jamila

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PS here are the books:

Enter the (un)holy trinity that would be my undoing, and ultimately my redoing:

1. The Courage to Be Disliked

By Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga

This book is like getting philosophically jumped. In the best way. It’s akin to sitting down with a grumpy version of your wisest self who’s had enough of your shit and isn’t afraid to call you out on it. The dialogue format makes it feel like you’re eavesdropping on a therapy session where the therapist has zero time for nonsense and is not interested in sugar-coating the truth. Centered on Adlerian psychology, it systematically dismantles excuses, insisting that many of your problems are self-inflicted. It’s a sobering read, with a blunt message: stop playing the victim, take responsibility for your life, and you’ll find the courage to be your authentic, disliked self. If you’re a people pleaser, this book lets you know that nobody is pleased with you, and no authentic life is brokered in self betrayal. If you’re ready to face the mirror without flinching and confront the uncomfortable truths about yourself, this is your book. It challenges you to step out of your comfort zone and embrace a transformative journey towards self-acceptance and personal growth. This book doesn't just nudge you towards change; it shoves you into a locker, demanding that you confront your fears and embrace your true self.

2. The Perfectionist’s Guide to Losing Control

By Katherine Morgan Schafler

This one’s for the control freaks who’ve perfected the art of stressing themselves out. Self saboteurs, very much included. Schafler, a psychotherapist, speaks directly to those who think they can manage every detail of their lives, or the folks who fall into that “failure to launch” category, and quit before they even start. No matter which end of the spectrum you land, we are all burning out in the process. She offers a blend of professional insight and a friendly, gentle nudge to help you realize that being a perfectionist isn’t a badge of honor; it’s a straight path to misery. Reading this book reminded me that I’m a human being, and the way I operated in my life needed to reflect that. Humane expectations that honor the humanity in me instead of punishing it allowed me to transform my self talk, and get to a place where I could actually meet myself where I was during this period of my life. Through candid anecdotes and practical advice, this book helped me to loosen the death grip I didn’t even realize i had on life, and find some semblance of balance. It's like having someone more studied and credentialed give you permission to relax, in the most compassionate way possible.

3. How to Know a Person

By David Brooks

Imagine having coffee with a really smart friend who’s read everything, heard every podcast, and also has a knack for seeing into people’s souls without objectifying them. That’s what this book feels like. Brooks delves into the art of truly understanding others, which, spoiler alert, starts with understanding yourself. He blends personal stories, psychological insights, and philosophical musings with a pinch of dry humor, making the heavy stuff go down easier. This book definitely had me wincing, confronting, with varying degrees of gentleness, the ways in which I am often doing/thinking/operating unbeknownst to myself. If you’re up for a reflective journey that demands you drop the superficial chit-chat and engage in meaningful, connected and nourishing interactions, this is your guide. Be prepared for some uncomfortable moments, they’re worth it. The bets part for me is that it comes with the tools to triage. He’s really a master of looking at a problem and clearly offering you the “What”, “So What?”, “Now What” to solve, and not feel stranded.