Chapter 13: The Courage to Be Imperfect

Two O'Clock in the Morning, Again

Lucas is forty-one and teaches mathematics at a secondary school. He is known as one of the best teachers there. His lessons are carefully planned, his explanations are clear and his students' results are excellent. What nobody sees is the cost. Lucas regularly works until two in the morning, preparing lessons in detail, checking every slide three times and rehearsing answers to every question a student might ask.

Lucas's greatest fear is making a mistake in front of his students. Once, years ago, he wrote an incorrect answer on the board, and a student pointed it out. The class laughed, not unkindly. Lucas laughed too, corrected it and moved on. But that night, he could not sleep. He replayed the moment again and again, feeling ashamed. Since then, he has prepared so thoroughly that such a mistake could never happen again.

The perfection Lucas demands of himself has spread to other parts of his life. He rewrites emails many times before sending them. He finds it hard to start any task unless he is sure he can do it perfectly. He has been planning to paint his kitchen for two years, but he has not started, because he worries that the result will not be good enough. He has stopped playing the piano, which he once loved, because he could not reach the standard he wanted.

Lucas is also exhausted. His sleep is poor, his patience at home is short and he has started to dread the start of each school year. Recently, his doctor told him that his blood pressure was higher than it should be and asked about his stress. Lucas did not know how to answer. He did not think of himself as stressed. He thought of himself as someone who did things properly.

Lucas's difficulty is common, especially among capable, conscientious people. They hold themselves to standards that no human being can meet, and they live in fear of falling short. Teachers in Adler's tradition used a phrase for the quality that such people often need most. They called it the courage to be imperfect.

The Fiction of Perfection

Adler believed that each person moves toward a goal, often without knowing it clearly. He sometimes described this goal as a kind of guiding picture of what the person wants to become, a picture that pulls them forward. Adler first set out this idea in his early book The Neurotic Character (1912), and he borrowed it, in part, from the philosopher Hans Vaihinger, who had written about the useful role of fictions in human thought: ideas that are not literally true but that help us act. A person might live "as if" they could become completely safe, completely admired or completely perfect.

For many people, the guiding picture is one of perfection. They believe, deep down, that if they could only be perfect, they would be safe from criticism, rejection and failure. Adler saw this as a form of striving for superiority, an attempt to escape the feeling of being small by becoming flawless. But perfection is impossible, so the goal can never be reached. The person is always falling short, always anxious and always working harder to close a gap that cannot be closed.

Adler also noticed that perfectionism can lead to avoidance. If a task cannot be done perfectly, a perfectionist may prefer not to do it at all. This is why Lucas has not painted his kitchen, and why he stopped playing the piano. As long as he does not try, he cannot fail. In Chapter 3, we saw how feelings of inferiority can turn into excuses: "If only I had more time, more talent, more preparation." Perfectionism often works in a similar way. It protects us from the risk of being imperfect by keeping us from acting at all.

There is a deeper connection with approval, too. Many perfectionists are, at heart, seeking to be beyond criticism. If everything they do is flawless, nobody can find fault with them, and they can be sure of approval. This is another form of living for approval, and it is exhausting, because every action becomes a test that must be passed perfectly.

Adler's answer was courage. In his view, a courageous person is not someone who is never afraid, or someone who always succeeds. A courageous person is someone who is willing to act even when the outcome is uncertain, who accepts that they may fail and who sees mistakes as part of learning rather than as proof of worthlessness. Courage, for Adler, was closely tied to social interest. A person who feels that they belong, that they are part of the human community, can afford to make mistakes, because their place does not depend on being perfect.

The Courage to Be Imperfect

The phrase "the courage to be imperfect" was used by teachers in Adler's tradition and was made widely known by Rudolf Dreikurs, whom we met in the last chapter. It is not a quotation from Adler's own books, although it fits his thinking well. Dreikurs gave a well-known talk on this subject. He argued that much of the unhappiness and tension in people's lives comes from their fear of making mistakes, and that one of the most important things a person can develop is the willingness to accept their own imperfection.

Dreikurs pointed out that everyone makes mistakes. This is simply part of being human. The question is not whether we will make mistakes, but how we respond to them. A person who is terrified of mistakes becomes tense, rigid and defensive. They may hide their errors, blame others or refuse to try new things. A person who accepts that they will sometimes be wrong can relax, learn from their mistakes and try again.

He also observed that the fear of mistakes often causes more mistakes. A tense, anxious person is more likely to make errors than a relaxed one, because fear narrows attention and makes clear thinking harder. A performer who is terrified of forgetting their lines is more likely to forget them. A student who is terrified of a wrong answer is more likely to freeze. Accepting the possibility of imperfection can actually improve performance, because it frees the mind to focus on the task.

The courage to be imperfect also has a social side. People who are afraid of being imperfect often find it hard to be close to others, because closeness means being seen, flaws and all. They may keep people at a distance, or present only a polished version of themselves. People who accept their imperfection can be more honest and more open. They can say "I was wrong" or "I do not know" or "I need help." These words, which perfectionists find so hard to say, are often the words that bring people closer together.

Finally, the courage to be imperfect makes it easier to accept others' imperfections. A person who demands perfection of themselves usually demands it of others too, whether they mean to or not. They notice every flaw in their partner, their children and their colleagues. A person who is gentle with their own mistakes tends to be gentler with others' mistakes as well. In this way, the courage to be imperfect is not only a gift to ourselves. It makes us easier to live and work with.

Lucas Makes a Deliberate Mistake

Lucas came across the phrase "the courage to be imperfect" in a book he was reading for a teacher training course. He laughed when he first read it, because it seemed to describe him exactly, and also because it seemed impossible. How could someone be courageous about being imperfect? Surely the goal was to be as good as possible.

But the idea stayed with him. He thought about his students, many of whom were afraid of making mistakes in mathematics. He had often told them that mistakes were part of learning, that every mathematician makes errors and that the important thing was to try. Yet he did not believe this about himself. He realized that he was teaching his students one thing and showing them another. They could see how afraid he was of being wrong.

Lucas decided to try an experiment. In one lesson, he deliberately made a small mistake on the board, the kind of error students often make. He waited to see whether anyone would notice. After a moment, a student raised her hand and pointed it out. Instead of feeling ashamed, Lucas thanked her warmly and said, "Well done for spotting that. I make mistakes too. Let us look at why that was wrong and how we can check for it." The class discussed the error, and Lucas noticed that many students seemed more relaxed afterwards.

Over the following months, Lucas began to prepare his lessons less exhaustively. He still planned carefully, but he stopped rehearsing every possible question. When a student asked something he could not answer, he said, "I am not sure. Let me think about it and come back to you tomorrow," or "Let us work it out together." His students seemed to respect him just as much. Some said they found him more approachable.

Lucas now usually finishes his preparation by ten in the evening. His sleep has improved, and his blood pressure has come down, as his doctor confirmed at his next check-up. He has started playing the piano again, badly at first, and he has painted his kitchen. There are a few uneven patches near the ceiling. "I look at them every morning," he says, "and I smile. They remind me that the kitchen is painted, which it never would have been if I had waited until I could do it perfectly."

Seo-yeon and the Perfect Mother

Seo-yeon is thirty-two and gave birth to her first child, a son, eight months ago. Before he was born, she read many books about raising children. She planned to breastfeed for a full year, to make all his food from fresh ingredients, to keep him away from screens completely and to respond to every cry within seconds. She wanted to be the best possible mother.

The reality has been very different. Her son does not sleep well, and Seo-yeon is exhausted. Breastfeeding was painful and difficult, and after three months, on her doctor's advice, she switched partly to formula. Some days, she is too tired to cook, and her son eats food from jars. Sometimes, when she needs a shower, she puts on a children's programme for him. Each of these things fills her with guilt. She feels that she is failing as a mother.

Seo-yeon's guilt is a clear example of perfectionism. She had a picture of the perfect mother, and every way in which she falls short of it feels like a failure. But the picture was impossible. No mother responds to every cry within seconds, makes every meal from scratch and never feels overwhelmed. The picture did not describe a real mother. It described a fiction, the kind of guiding picture Adler wrote about, pulling her toward a goal she could never reach.

What helped Seo-yeon most was a conversation at a parents' group. When she admitted, with tears, that she sometimes put the television on so that she could shower, several other parents laughed with relief and said that they did the same. One older mother said, "Your son does not need a perfect mother. He needs a mother who loves him and who is not falling apart. Looking after yourself is part of looking after him." Seo-yeon realized that her perfectionism was not helping her son. It was making her more tired and more anxious, which made her less patient and less present with him.

Seo-yeon has begun to practise the courage to be imperfect as a mother. She reminds herself each day of what really matters: that her son is safe, fed, loved and cared for. She lets the rest be good enough. She asks her partner and her mother for help more often. And she has noticed that when she is less anxious, she enjoys her son more. "I wanted to be a perfect mother," she says. "Now I just want to be his mother. That is enough, and it is much more fun."

Desmond Learns the Guitar at Sixty-Six

Desmond is sixty-six and recently retired from his work as a bus driver. All his life, he wanted to play the guitar, but he never had time. Now he has time. He bought a guitar and signed up for lessons at a community music centre. On the first day, he discovered that his fingers were stiff, that he had no sense of rhythm and that the young people in the class learned much faster than he did.

After three lessons, Desmond nearly gave up. He felt embarrassed, old and clumsy. He imagined the teacher and the other students thinking that he was too old to learn. At home, he practised alone, but every wrong note seemed to confirm that he was hopeless. He began to tell himself that it was too late, that he should have started when he was young.

Desmond's teacher, a patient woman in her fifties, noticed his discouragement. After a lesson, she asked him why he wanted to play. He said he wanted to play songs for his grandchildren. "Then you do not need to be good," she said. "You need to be good enough to play a few songs for your grandchildren. That is a very reachable goal." She also told him that she had taught many people his age and older, and that the ones who succeeded were not the most talented, but the ones who kept going despite their mistakes.

Desmond took this to heart. He set himself a small, imperfect goal: to learn three simple songs well enough to play them for his grandchildren at a family gathering in six months. He practised every day, making many mistakes and slowly improving. He stopped comparing himself with the young students and started comparing himself with himself, as we discussed in Chapter 3.

At the family gathering, Desmond played the three songs. He made several mistakes, and in the middle of the second song he lost his place and had to start the verse again. His grandchildren did not care. They sang along, clapped and asked him to play the first song again. Desmond says it was one of the happiest evenings of his life. "If I had waited until I was good," he says, "I would never have played for them. Being imperfect was the only way to get there."

Amina Speaks at the Meeting

Amina is twenty-seven and works as a nurse in a community health clinic. Her neighbourhood is facing the possible closure of a local library, which many families rely on, and a public meeting has been called to discuss it. Amina feels strongly that the library should stay open, and several neighbours have asked her to speak at the meeting, because she is articulate and well respected.

Amina is terrified. She has never spoken in public. She imagines herself stumbling over words, forgetting her points, being contradicted by officials and looking foolish in front of her whole neighbourhood. She has written and rewritten her speech many times. Each version feels inadequate. She is thinking about telling her neighbours that she cannot do it.

A friend who works as a teacher gave Amina a piece of advice. "You are trying to give a perfect speech," she said. "But the meeting does not need a perfect speech. It needs someone who cares to stand up and say why. People will listen to you because you mean it, not because you are polished. If you stumble, they will understand. Most of them would be terrified too."

Amina decided to speak, with the courage to be imperfect. She prepared three main points on a small card and practised them a few times, but she did not try to memorize a perfect speech. At the meeting, her voice shook at first, and she lost her place once. She paused, looked at her card and said, "Sorry, I am nervous. This matters a lot to me." Several people in the audience nodded and smiled. She continued, and by the end, she was speaking clearly and warmly.

After the meeting, many neighbours thanked Amina. Several said that her honesty about being nervous had made them feel closer to her. The library is still under review, but the meeting led to a group of residents forming a committee to support it, and Amina is a member. "My nervousness did not ruin the speech," she says. "It made it real. People did not need me to be perfect. They needed me to be there."

Practical Steps: Practising the Courage to Be Imperfect

The first step is to notice your perfectionism. Where in your life do you hold yourself to impossible standards? Where do you avoid tasks because you fear you cannot do them perfectly? Where do you feel guilt or shame about being merely good enough? Write down a few examples.

The second step is to ask what "good enough" would look like. For each example, describe a standard that is realistic and sufficient, rather than perfect. Desmond's teacher helped him see that "good enough to play three songs for my grandchildren" was a better goal than "a good guitarist". Seo-yeon learned that "safe, fed, loved and cared for" was enough. Good enough is not the same as careless. It is a standard a human being can actually reach.

The third step is to practise small, deliberate imperfections. Send an email after reading it once instead of five times. Leave a small task slightly unfinished. Say "I do not know" when you do not know. Start a project before you feel fully ready. Each small imperfection teaches your mind that the world does not end when things are less than perfect.

The fourth step is to respond to mistakes with curiosity rather than shame. When you make a mistake, ask, "What can I learn from this?" rather than "How could I be so stupid?" Treat your own mistakes the way Lucas learned to treat his students' mistakes: as a normal and useful part of learning.

The fifth step is to share your imperfection with someone. Tell a friend about a mistake you made, or admit that you are nervous, as Amina did. You may be surprised by how often others respond with relief, warmth and their own stories of imperfection. Shared imperfection brings people closer together.

The sixth step is to notice the cost of perfectionism. Like Lucas, you may find that your perfectionism costs you sleep, health, pleasure and relationships. Seeing these costs clearly can strengthen your motivation to change. If perfectionism is causing you serious distress or affecting your health, it may help to talk to a doctor or another qualified professional.

Imperfection Is Not Carelessness

The courage to be imperfect does not mean that standards do not matter, or that we should stop trying to do things well. Lucas still prepares his lessons carefully, and his students still achieve good results. Amina still prepared her speech. Desmond still practised every day. The difference is that they no longer demand perfection, and they no longer let the fear of imperfection stop them from acting.

Some kinds of work require very high standards, and rightly so. A surgeon, a pilot, an engineer checking a bridge or a nurse giving medicine must take great care, because mistakes can cause serious harm. Even in these jobs, however, the courage to be imperfect has a place. People in such work need to be able to admit and report mistakes quickly, so that they can be corrected before harm occurs. A culture of fear, in which people hide their errors, is more dangerous than a culture in which mistakes are openly discussed and learned from.

So the courage to be imperfect is not about lowering our standards. It is about changing our relationship with our own humanity: accepting that we will sometimes fall short, responding to our mistakes with honesty and learning, and refusing to let the fear of imperfection rule our lives.

A Short Exercise: The Good-Enough Week

This exercise helps you practise the courage to be imperfect over one week. It takes a few minutes each day.

At the start of the week, choose three areas of your life where you tend to be perfectionist. They might be work tasks, household tasks, your appearance, your parenting, your hobbies or your messages to others. For each area, write a short description of what "good enough" would look like this week. "Reply to emails after reading them once." "Cook simple meals three nights." "Practise the piano for fifteen minutes without stopping to correct every mistake."

Each day, try to meet the good-enough standard in at least one of your three areas, and resist the urge to go further. If you feel anxious, notice the feeling and let it be there. You do not need to make it go away. Simply notice that you can feel anxious and still choose good enough.

Each evening, write a few lines about what happened. Did anything bad result from doing something good enough rather than perfectly? Did anyone notice? Did you gain anything, such as time, rest or pleasure? Most people find that the consequences they feared do not happen, and that they gain more than they expected.

At the end of the week, read your notes and write one sentence about what you learned. Lucas did this exercise during a school holiday. His three areas were lesson planning, emails and the kitchen. His sentence at the end of the week was: "Nothing fell apart, and I slept eight hours every night." He has repeated the exercise several times since, each time with new areas.

Chapter Summary

Adler believed that each person moves toward a guiding picture of what they want to become, and that for many people this picture is one of perfection, a fiction that can never be reached. Perfectionism is a form of striving for superiority and often leads to anxiety, exhaustion and avoidance. Teachers in Adler's tradition, especially Rudolf Dreikurs, spoke of the courage to be imperfect: the willingness to act, make mistakes and learn, knowing that our place among others does not depend on being flawless.

Lucas with his late-night preparation, Seo-yeon with her picture of the perfect mother, Desmond learning the guitar at sixty-six and Amina speaking at the public meeting all found that accepting imperfection freed them to act, to learn and to connect with others. The courage to be imperfect is not carelessness or lowered standards. It is a kinder and more honest relationship with our own humanity.

In the next chapter, we will look at Adler's answer to loneliness and to the hunger for approval: contribution.