Chasing perfection - why 'good enough' really is good enough

We live in a world that quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) tells us to aim for perfection. Perfect career. Perfect relationships. Perfect roast dinner. Perfect parenting. Perfect body. Perfect life.

We see it everywhere – especially online. Take the guy with 3% body fat – washboard abs, defined everything, the kind of physique people stop to admire at the gym. On the surface, he looks like he’s nailed it. But talk to him, and the picture shifts. His days revolve around training and strict meal prep. Nights out? Rare. Birthday cake? Off limits. He’s always tracking, always tweaking, always tired. And with body fat that low, his energy’s not the only thing taking a hit – let’s just say his libido hasn’t exactly kept up with his lifting stats.

It makes you think. From the outside, he looks like he’s living the dream. But from the inside? It doesn’t sound like he thinks his life is perfect at all.

Perfection might look good in the mirror, but how does it feel to live with?

And that’s what got me thinking: so much of what we chase is based on appearances. What we think we should be aiming for. But often, the people who seem to have it all together are quietly sacrificing things we’d never want to give up. The glossy outside doesn’t always reflect the reality underneath.

Let me explain… with Yorkshire puddings. Yes, really.

The Yorkshire pudding paradox

In our family, Yorkshire puddings were serious business. Not just a side dish – they were an event. My nan’s version was legendary, though the recipe was more “feeling” than formula. She used a dinner fork to measure flour (six or seven forks, to be precise), added “some” milk and “a couple” of eggs – all depending on the day. My sister and I both remember it differently and, to this day, we can’t agree on what the right mix was. One of us swears she used more eggs. The other thinks it was less flour. Neither of us is wrong – it’s just that perfection, it turns out, is personal.

Then there are the debates about method. My sister, whose Yorkshire puddings are genuinely the best I’ve ever tasted, insists the oven needs to be so hot it’s practically on fire before you pour the batter in. Others say 220 degrees is the sweet spot. And don't even get me started on what you’re supposed to serve them with. Some people stick to the classic: roast beef and gravy. Others (like me) go rogue. Last Christmas we had curry for dinner, so I made Bombay roast potatoes and curried Yorkshires with mango chutney. Not traditional, but genuinely delicious.

So what’s the point of this? However they’re made – traditional, experimental, or slightly deflated – they’re still Yorkshire puddings. And everyone has their own version of “perfect.”

That’s the thing: perfection is a myth. It doesn’t exist in any universally agreed form. What one person thinks is perfect, another might see as “not quite right.” And when we apply that same idea to our lives, relationships, bodies, or achievements, it starts to make sense why chasing perfection can feel so exhausting – and impossible.

The perils of trying to get everything right

Perfectionism can be sneaky. It shows up in overthinking, over-preparing, and second-guessing ourselves. It disguises itself as ambition or high standards. It tells us we’re doing the “right” thing by trying to avoid mistakes, when really, we’re just trying to avoid judgment, rejection, or feeling like we’ve failed.

I’ve been there more times than I can count. Checking emails five times before pressing send. Rethinking something I said in a meeting. Worrying if I’ve done enough, said the right thing, or come across the right way. For a long time, I thought that was just part of being conscientious.

But there’s a difference between caring and fearing.

Fear tells us we can’t get it wrong. That if we make a mistake, we’ll be exposed or rejected. That our worth is tied to how close we come to “perfect.”

Being dyslexic taught me something different. Mistakes were part of the territory from day one – spelling, grammar, and processing information. I couldn’t avoid them. But I learned to work around them. I learned that a “mistake” isn’t the end of the world. Sometimes it’s just the start of learning.

What we think is 'perfect' is just perception

We often think other people have it all together – that they’re doing life better than we are. That their business is thriving, their family is happy, and their confidence is unshakable. But we’re usually comparing our behind-the-scenes reality to someone else’s curated highlight reel.

In therapy sessions, clients often share how they feel like they’re the only one struggling. But when we talk it through, it becomes clear that most people are just quietly figuring things out as they go, making it up, making mistakes, and sometimes making peace with “good enough.”

Because “perfect” doesn’t exist. But real does.

Progress beats perfection

What if we stopped trying to get everything right and started focusing on what actually matters? Progress. Curiosity. Growth. Connection.

Trying something and learning from it. Failing and still showing up. Taking action even when you feel unsure. That’s where the growth is – not in pristine, unblemished success, but in messy, real-life attempts.

It’s like cooking without a recipe – sometimes it works, sometimes it’s a disaster, and sometimes it’s unexpectedly brilliant. But at least you gave it a go.

Your (imperfect) challenge

If the idea of letting go of perfection makes you a bit twitchy, this bit is for you.

Try one (or all) of these this week – not to tick a box or 'be better', but to practice what it feels like to stop chasing the impossible:

Because letting go of perfection isn’t about giving up. It’s about making space for joy, for ease, for real life to show up.

Because life isn’t about perfect outcomes. It’s about experiences, connections, and figuring out what works for you.

And if you’re feeling weighed down by pressure, whether it’s from others or from within, sometimes talking to someone can help. Therapy isn’t about having it all together; it’s about giving yourself permission to be human and being happy with good enough.

No perfection required.