“Progress is better than perfect”: Reframing A Trauma Mindset

“Done is better than perfect.” My professor Vanessa Errecarte really drilled this into us in Personal Branding this winter quarter. As perfect as this quote is for the marketing world, it isn’t exactly the best advice for something as unpredictable as life.

My edit would be this: “Progress is better than perfect.” Definitely easier said than done. And still, hearing this is like nails on a chalkboard.

But why the amendment?

Breaking Free from Perfectionism: Overcoming Fear After Chronic Trauma

I’m a recovering perfectionist. Which means I rewrote the first sentence like 23 times on my Google Doc and another 120 in my head, usually in the shower or when I should’ve been falling asleep, over the span of two years. Some versions focused on my traumatic turning point, others started with some sassy story. But they all stayed internal because I didn’t want to do this. I was terrified. 

So I avoided this moment at least a thousand times. I avoided the beginning of a new dream because I hate starting new things. Especially when I don’t know if I’m going to be perfect. We naturally rely on our own instincts, biases, and experiences to make decisions. For me, the comfort of the darkness I know looks brighter than any light coming from the outside. I rather outgrow my tiny box than stretch my wings. All of my instincts told me putting myself out there was a mistake. I was living in fear. And it kept me stuck.

It took me six years to apply to grad school. It took me ten years to walk away from a toxic relationship and not go back. And now, about two years to start whatever this blog ends up being. Sometimes we mistake fear for instinct, especially when we don’t know any different.

I wrote this from my bedroom, a place where I had lived what felt like four different lifetimes. I experienced love, laughter, hope, anxiety, burnout, depression, suicidal thoughts, and eventually acceptance in the same space where I’ve been contemplating where to go with this. Lots of full circles, loose ends, and small boxes in this space sometimes.

But in my room, I also have my grandpa’s two-dollar bill hanging up.

Living in Color: Letting Go of "Too Much" to Find Growth

My grandpa used to collect two-dollar bills. My first thought when I see it is that I’m too much of all the wrong things. Funny how inanimate objects can come to symbolize so much when we let our insecurities take control. But these thoughts come from my past. Once upon a time ago, I was called “too much”: “too emotional”, “too dramatic”, “too difficult”. So naturally all those “too’s” added up to “too insignificant” to share my story. 

But my grandpa was also “too” much of an immigrant, “too” uneducated, and “too” poor. Yet when he died last year, too many people came speaking of his steadfastness, wisdom, and richness in patience. His struggles, pain, yet persistence to be present and authentic made him not just relatable but loved, something perfection could never do. Sometimes our “too’s” can be exactly what others need. 

Moving Forward: How My Mental Health Journey with C-PTSD is Shaping My Future

Truth is, we’re all works in progress. We’re never done. And we’re not supposed to be. The beautiful part about being alive still, there’s always room to grow and keep going. But just because things can be better doesn’t mean we can make it an excuse to never start. It’s all about the journey. 

Writing this was, quite frankly, one of the most annoying processes of my life: so much doubt, fear, frustration, and panic. But I guess that’s how you know you care, huh? And I’m still a day later than planned but at least I’m not six or ten years late, this time. The important thing is that I’m here.

This might be short and sweet (unlike my gangly 6 foot and sarcastic self) but at least it’s progress. It’s not the perfect piece I hyped or, rather, psyched myself out to create. But it’s a glance into the light from the little box I’ve confined myself to. So here’s to the baby steps we’re all trying to stumble through. I hope that in putting myself out there, something I always swore I would avoid, someone somewhere can have an epiphany about the direction they’re heading. And maybe my journey so far will inspire more stories about shaking off the gray and moving into color.

Let me know if there’s a dream you’re still shaking the fear of off.