Am I a Perfectionist? Uncovering the Hidden Signs of Perfectionism

Signs of Perfectionism I Didn't Recognize in Myself (And How I Began Letting Go)

Hi. My name is Carissa, and I'm a recovering perfectionist.

Like many people struggling with an addiction, if you had asked me years ago whether I was a perfectionist, I would have laughed.

"Of course not."

Nothing in my life felt perfect, and I certainly didn't think I was. I could have given you a long list of every flaw, mistake, and way I wasn't measuring up. It was a brutal way to live.

By the late 1990s, something had shifted inside me. Every morning, my alarm clock wasn't just waking me up. It was firing the starting gun. Before my feet ever touched the floor, my mind was already reviewing my to-do list. There were problems to solve, people to care for, things to remember, mistakes to avoid, and responsibilities waiting for me. Everything felt urgent.

Around 1999, I made a New Year's resolution that simply said, "Lighten up already."

I realized I was becoming someone I didn't recognize anymore. I was short-tempered with Anthony, gaining weight, and even the good parts of life felt heavy.

The strange part was that only a few years earlier, I had been different. In my early twenties, I used to joke that I never wanted to grow up. "I'm going to be like Peter Pan," I'd say. Life was an adventure. If things didn't go as planned, I'd figure it out.

So where had that young woman gone?

Somewhere along the way, I began to believe I could only count on myself. If something needed to get done, it was up to me. Asking for help meant I hadn't tried hard enough. Being self-sufficient was the same thing as being strong.

I got married. I became a stepmom. I started working in Child Protective Services, where my decisions carried real consequences for real families. 

I don't remember deciding to become so serious. It happened quietly. If someone was upset, I assumed I had missed something. If life became messy, I replayed every decision looking for the moment I should have handled it differently. Even when circumstances were outside my control, I felt I should have seen them coming. At the time, I didn't call it perfectionism. I thought this was simply what responsible adults did.

I'd like to tell you there was one defining moment when everything changed—a sermon, a wise mentor, or a single passage of Scripture that suddenly made everything clear. But that's not what happened.

In my final year working for the State of Washington, one of my former supervisors, who was training to become a life coach, asked me, "Do you enjoy what you're doing?" I wasn't unhappy. I loved many parts of my work, but I also knew something wasn't right. Somewhere along the way, I had built a life that I was managing instead of enjoying.

Changing My Life Didn't Change Me

That question stayed with me and eventually led Anthony and me to Florida. When we finally got there, I jokingly announced that I was never wearing a watch again.

I was completely serious.

For a while, it felt like I'd found the answer. Life slowed down. There were palm trees instead of snowdrifts and evenings at the beach instead of long commutes. But underneath the new scenery, I was still the same person. When plans fell apart, I looked for what I should have done differently. When someone I loved was hurting, I assumed it was my job to make things right. At the time, I didn't call it perfectionism. I called it responsibility.

What I didn't understand was how deeply afraid I was of not being able to hold everything together.

It would take years before I understood what was really driving me. God was far more patient than I was. Instead of exposing everything at once, He peeled back one layer at a time until I could finally see what had been there all along.

Looking back, I can see that my perfectionism was never about having the perfect house, the perfect planner, or the perfect performance. It was the quiet conviction that if there was a problem, I should be able to fix it. If someone needed help, I should provide it. If something was falling apart, it was my responsibility to hold it together.

That was the first layer God began peeling back.

The Hidden Signs of Perfectionism

After spending the past fifteen years counseling women, I've come to realize my story isn't all that unique. I've lost count of the number of times I've sat across from someone, listened to her story, and quietly thought, Yes, girl. I get it.

The details are different, but the patterns are surprisingly familiar. One woman replays every conversation, worried she said the wrong thing. Another carries the weight of everyone else's happiness, convinced it's her job to keep the peace. Someone else can't rest until every task on her list is finished, and even then she wonders if she's done enough.

None of these women would describe themselves as perfectionists. In fact, most would say exactly what I would have said years earlier.

"I'm just trying to be responsible."

That's one of the reasons perfectionism can be so difficult to recognize. We often misunderstand what it actually is. We picture the woman with color-coded pantry shelves, every label facing forward. Or the employee who refuses to turn in an project until every detail is flawless.

Those are certainly signs of perfectionism.

How to Let Go of Perfectionism

Psychotherapist Katherine Morgan Schafler argues that we've reduced perfectionism to a stereotype. In reality, it's less about flawless performance and more about how we relate to ourselves when life—or we ourselves—fall short of our expectations.

Sometimes perfectionism looks like the inability to rest. The constant pressure to get everything right. Or the quiet belief that if something goes wrong, it must somehow be your fault. And that's why it took me so many years to recognize it. I never thought I was trying to be perfect. I thought I was just trying to be responsible.

So how do we begin to change? Ironically, not by trying harder. One of the most freeing insights I found in Katherine Morgan Schafler's work is that perfectionists don't overcome perfectionism by becoming less responsible. They begin healing when they stop confusing responsibility with control. 

We can plan, work diligently, and love the people God has entrusted to us, but we cannot control every outcome. Peace doesn't come from getting everything right. It comes from recognizing that some things were never ours to carry.

Two Questions That Changed Everything

Over the years, I found myself coming back to one simple question whenever I felt that familiar weight settling onto my shoulders: Whose burden am I carrying?

Jesus said, "My yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:30). That doesn't mean life is free of hardship. But when I'm crushed by trying to control other people's choices, fix every problem, or predict every outcome, I have to ask whether I'm carrying something Jesus never asked me to carry.

Today, when I notice anxiety rising or the pressure to hold everything together, I pause and ask myself, Whose burden am I carrying? Then I ask a second question: God, what do You want me to do?

Those two questions have changed the way I live. Sometimes God reminds me that a burden really is mine to carry. I need to have the difficult conversation, make the phone call, set the boundary, or simply show up and love someone well. Other times, He gently reminds me that I'm trying to carry something that belongs to Him—another person's choices, their emotions, the outcome of a situation, or the future itself. My job is obedience. His job is everything else.

Trust me, I don't get it right every time. Sometimes I have to pray that prayer once. Sometimes I have to pray it twenty times before lunch. It's less a one-time decision than a daily practice of trust. Little by little, I've discovered that peace doesn't come from finally getting everything under control. It comes from asking God what He's calling me to do today and trusting Him with everything He isn't.

A Final Thought

If you're reading this and recognizing yourself somewhere in these pages, know that change is possible. You don't have to spend your life driven by the fear of getting it wrong or carrying burdens that were never yours to bear. Healing is often less about becoming someone new and more about laying down what you've been carrying for far too long.

If you'd like practical tools to begin that journey, I'd love to invite you to our Breaking the Perfectionist Cycle: Mindfulness and Self-Compassion course in the Living Well Lab. Together, we'll explore evidence-based practices that help quiet your inner critic, cultivate self-compassion, and learn to respond to yourself with grace instead of relentless pressure.

As a special gift, through August 31, we're offering the Breaking the Perfectionist Cycle: Mindfulness and Self-Compassion course free to everyone. If you're not already an Every Girl Living member, simply enter the code FREECOURSE at checkout to access the course at no cost.

Click Here to Register for the Course

And if this topic resonates with you, I also highly recommend Katherine Morgan Schafler's book, The Perfectionist's Guide to Losing Control. It offers a compassionate, refreshing perspective on perfectionism that helped me see my own patterns in a completely different light.

Click Here to Buy the Book

Sometimes healing begins with two simple questions:

Whose burden am I carrying?

God, what do You want me to do?

Then trust Him with the rest.

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