I was really good at school.
I loved the clear parameters. Here’s the syllabus. Here are the expectations. Do this, this, this, and that and you will receive your grade.
Getting an A in this class felt like something I could choose to do.
And I did, most of the time.
I've always felt that anything less than the best wasn't good enough.
Growing up, the grading system in American schools taught me how to color within the lines and play the game. I was the kid who was always striving for straight A's, not just to please my parents or teachers, but because that's what was expected of me. And boy, did I play that game well. For a long time, that drive to be the best served me well, both academically and professionally. But that kind of thinking instilled a kind of perfectionism that I'm still grappling with to this day.
I call it being a Recovering Valedictorian.
Now for the record: I was not the valedictorian (not even close) of the 1994 graduating class at Buchholz High. It’s very important to Hilda (my inner critic) that I tell you this fact for some reason. I did graduate from college with honors though. And from grad school with distinction. None of which has done squat for me since graduation though.
I digress. Back to my article.
Recovering Valedictorians have a deep-seated need to be the best at everything. So we often only attempt things that we are sure we can do well, preventing us from trying new things or taking risks. We are uncomfortable with ambiguity. We are reluctant to try things without a guaranteed outcome, so we stay in learning or strategizing mode for longer than necessary before taking action – if we ever do.
And when we do finally take action, we need to excel at everything we do right out of the gate. No charming years or missteps or mistakes allowed. So we study, study, study like fiends, thinking we can strategize our way to making things happen with perfection.
It’s exhausting. And counterproductive.
You’re not going to get to where you want to go by strategizing.
Using a strategy to puzzle everything out before you start is kind of like using books to study to become an ice skater. You’ll never graduate to doing triple axels by sitting on the sidelines of the ice rink, reading another book or watching yet another YouTube video.
You’re going to have to strap on the skates, figure out how to stand up, waddle out onto the ice, fall on your ass 16 times, and eat some ice.
Each and every time you fall on your ass and eat that ice, you’re going to figure out how to stand back up.
Until you eventually get somewhat competent at it. (Way before you get confident at it.)
It’s all part of the process, and it doesn’t have to feel like being forced to eat your veggies when you were a kid.
Because this is where Yoda got it wrong: There is a try.
You experiment. You try. And then you try again.
When you approach your next step as an experiment, you remove the pressure. You remove the need for perfectionism. You add in the fun. (Oh my gosh, remember FUN?!)
And while you can’t guarantee a specific outcome, you can guarantee this: Action.
Which, my friend, is the only way forward in doing work that matters.
Here’s the only hang up: Sometimes we’re ready to strap on the skates, but we don’t know what our next best step is.
We get to the fork in the road, and don’t know which way to go.
We arrive at the airport with bags packed, only to realize we don’t know which plane we’re getting on.
We pull out all the ingredients, but we don’t actually know what we’re baking.
With this uncertainty comes indecision, hemming + hawing, asking the world for input…
And it ain’t gonna cut it anymore. You need to strap on those skates confidently, knowing your next step is exactly the step you need to be taking right now.
Bottom line
I know I’m mixing metaphors here, but hopefully, my point is clear.
The pressure to excel in everything and avoid mistakes is exhausting and counterproductive. Sometimes, the fear of uncertainty can prevent us from taking action and moving forward.
You're not going to be able to move past this perfectionism by strategizing. You need to take action, fall on your ass, and stand back up again, and again, and again.
So stop strategizing and get started. Action is the only way forward in doing work that matters.
“Action is the only way forward.” Ugh! Please email me this post daily — this is a reminder I need far too often!