Sometimes (okay, often), in session with a client I will say something that stops us both in our tracks. Yesterday, it was, "Sounds like you're worried about f***ing it up. Why don't you just hurry up, and f*** it up?" Not exactly what they teach us to say in grad school, but to be fair it was an open-ended question and a pretty accurate reflection of content.
While the delivery was blunt (my clients tell me they love this), the message was actually really compassionate. It's OKAY to mess up! In fact, it's pretty much inevitable. You will mess something up at some point, probably many things, many times. Why not embrace that messy imperfection, get started, or back-on-track, and get through what Brene Brown calls, "the shitty first draft" more expediently?
Well, neuro-spicy fam, here's a (likely not surprising) confession... I struggle to practice what I'm preaching. For example, I have multiple blog posts saved as drafts that have been sitting for months primarily because I too, "get in my head," and worry about f***ing up. Who needs to hurry up and f*** it up now, Kim?
What's an even BIGGER confession (trying not to vomit as I type this) is that I am writing a BOOK! I have been writing this book for THREE YEARS! Just today, I sent back edits that have taken me MONTHS to get through. Not because I'm a busy counselor, practice owner, supervisor, educator, friend, daughter, wife, and just human trying to human in the world. Those things are true. I have many roles and responsibilities, and I tend to treat every cool idea as a new project that must come to fruition. Too many projects all at once. We'll put a pin in that struggle and address it in another post.
The truth is that I avoid what I fear will not be perfect right out the gate. When I finally stop avoiding, I then get stuck on every word, every sentence, every paragraph - especially if I can't see a clear way forward immediately. It feels very glitchy. It's a freezing up - a stuck-ness. That perfectionism - that gifted, neurodivergent trauma response - gets SO LOUD! Here are some common worries and distractions that I get stuck in:
That's not the right word for that.
I use that word too much.
This is repetitive.
This doesn't flow.
Did I change the laundry over?
Do I need a citation here?
Crap, what study/book/podcast was that from?
This won't be as good as that study/book/podcast.
I should go read/listen to that... (Three. Hours. Later.)
I should do my billing now.
I need to email resources to those clients.
Have my students completed their assignments this week?
What was I writing about?
Do I even know what I'm talking about?
In clearer moments, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm talking about. I mean, it's mostly my lived experience and a TON of research, so I feel pretty good about it. In fact, if you just ask me about Giftedness, Neurodivergence, Creative Processes, Perfectionism, etc. in casual conversation, I'll give you a spontaneous TED talk. #neurodivergentlovelanguage I can sometimes tap into that excited, confident energy while writing, but it's harder. It's especially hard, when it's not just creation of content, but revision. Which feels like being graded. Which kicks me into perfectionistic panic mode.
I was a "straight A student" for most of my academic career. I am not used to even having to revise. My process is LOTS of internal, invisible workshopping, composition, and rearrangement. THEN I pop out an A+ project/paper/whatever, usually the night before it's due. That might have worked for me in school. You too? But it isn't a healthy way to live your life. Life is inherently messy and complicated. And as my very patient publisher once told me, "Getting [the first draft] in is the A+." Edits are not a "bad grade." Edits are a conversation of sorts. At least, that how I'm trying to think of them now.
In business and organizational psychology circles this concept of embracing imperfection and encouraging trial-and-error processes is often referred to as, "Fail Fast, Fail Often." In fact, there's a book out there by the same name. It strikes me also that scientists live this in their day-to-day work. A "failed experiment" is simply more data. So, what if we think of our endeavors (creative or otherwise) as experiments that will, regardless of outcome, yield helpful data? Perhaps a "failure" (imagined or realized) can simply be seen as more information.
For example, if no one reads this blog post, I will learn something about my marketing, website, or relevance of the topic for you, my neuro-spicy community. If people read it and have critical comments, I will learn about possible pain points (challenges, triggers, etc.) that I need to tend to differently in this forum and areas in which I may need to improve my writing moving forward. That's great data. That's data I WANT to receive. That's in no way the, "bad grade," that my inner gifted kiddo is afraid of. That's the conversation, the exchange of info, if we choose to actively engage in it.
Here's the long and the short of it - we're probably still gonna worry about f***ing up whatever we are working on. We will inevitably f*** it/something up. In fact, if we hurry up and get that part out of the way, we'll get to our finished product, project, process much faster and with less suffering. If I practice what I'm preaching, I might just get more helpful info to you more quickly and consistently. Let's hurry up, and f*** it up, fam!
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