Story of a Recovering Perfectionist

Some of my readers ask me why I use guest writers. I do because I feel honored to give real life examples of what this blog is all about. It is one thing to talk in the abstract and another to show a real story by real people. When I met Emma at Running Start, I first noticed that she was quieter than the rest of the Fellows and when I had the opportunity to know her better after one on one discussions, I soon realized her tremendous gifts.

The story is labeled a recovering perfectionist but it is also about the confusion between being shy and being an introvert, two entirely different characteristics. Emma's story is not that uncommon and there are way too many people in this town and others that struggle with perfectionism. I wanted Emma to tell her story because she is a gifted writer and communicator and the lessons she has learned are worth sharing. I am positive that this is not the last you will hear of Emma Simpkins. She is a remarkable woman with tremendous talent.

The night before my first gymnastics class I cried. I was four years old and when my mother asked me what was wrong, I told her I was scared the instructor would ask me to do a skill I had never tried before. I had spent the past few months teaching myself to do a cartwheel in the living room, watching as I turned myself upside down in the reflecting surface of the fireplace until I had gotten it just right. I spent hours making sure my legs were straight and the landing was strong. Despite this inner determination to teach myself something many people are never able to completely grasp, I was terrified of the expectations I anticipated the coach would have of me. This fear, coupled with my perpetual shyness, had my stomach in knots until I walked into class the next day.

When morning arrived I put on my brand new blue leotard and a brave face and did my best to keep up as the instructor led us in stretching. All of the fears I had vanished after the first ten minutes and by the end of the hour my life was forever changed. Eighteen years would pass and gymnastics would still be a defining part of my life. The sport taught me much more than how to stand on a four-inch wide beam and flip myself over without falling and how to land on my feet after flipping and twisting through the air – it taught me about the pursuit of perfection, setting high standards, and how powerful introversion can be.

Gymnastics, on the surface, appears to be about perfection. The sport is based on a system that penalizes athletes for making mistakes and is extremely objective as every judge cannot help but prefer certain types of choreography, skill combinations, and performance styles. The winner of each competition seems to be the one that was the most perfect that day. Although media attention and national priorities place emphasis on the team aspect of competitions, gymnastics is primarily an individual sport. Gymnasts can be motivated by coaches, teammates, and parents, but in the end the strength and dedication needed to succeed in the sport must come from within. Gymnastics involves self-reliance and centers on striving to be the best you possibly can be.

By the age of twelve I lived and breathed all things gymnastics. After middle school let out for the day I would attend practices lasting upwards of four hours. I daydreamed about routines and strategized as to how I would acquire new, more difficult skills that would take me to the next level. I wondered what other kids did after school as I would come home around ten o’clock each night with a fine layer of chalk dust covering my skin, my hands cracked and bleeding, every muscle in my body screaming, knowing full well that I would wake up tomorrow and do it again no matter how hard it would be.

Gymnastics fed my perfectionism and my desire to always be the best. It was an aspect of my life that I felt good about – at school I was the shy student who never spoke, but gymnastics was all about performing skills, not about who could say the most and who could say it the loudest. I spoke through my movements and was always told that the one place I was not shy was in the gymnastics arena. At the same time, the sport wore me down. Sometimes it felt like no matter how many medals I won I would never be satisfied. Even when I received a near perfect score for my floor routine at a major competition I still spent days thinking about how I could have done one tiny thing differently and gotten a better score. As I got older I started to crumble. Things that were once easy had become extremely difficult. After growing four inches I had to relearn most of the skills I had done for years and hated every moment of it. Everything started to change in my world and I did not know who I was anymore. The place that was once my refuge - the place where I could feel fully myself – now felt exactly like the halls of my school.

It was not until college that I came to the realization that gymnastics is more about challenging yourself, setting goals, and finding success in the everyday than it is about winning or being perfect. It took me almost sixteen years to come to this realization and I still struggle to remember this lesson. Perhaps it took so long because my love of trying to be perfect always spoke louder in my head than the voice that was telling me it was okay to mess up, it was okay to not win another medal or ribbon, it was okay if all I did that day was land one dismount standing up. Meeting a mentor helped in this process. He told me that we should have high standards, but never aim for perfection. It was a light bulb moment for me – the most successful gymnasts do not go into competitions with the intent to be perfect, they go in with the intent to do their very best and show off all the hard work they have put in during trainings. Deep down I always knew this, but it was easier to be the perfectionist that I had always let others describe me as than to remove myself from this box. My mentor also helped me realize that although I am often pegged as shy, I am more aptly described as an introvert. And although introversion can often come with negative connotations, my introversion helped me be the gymnast that I was and the person that I am today. It helped me sit back and observe: it helped me in thinking up new approaches to make learning new skills less daunting, and it made me feel like I could perform in other domains of life.

I started my journey in gymnastics in tears and afraid and ended my journey hopeful. The lessons I learned from the sport will stay with me for life. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the beginning and start all over knowing what I know today, but then I gently remind myself that I would not be where I am today if it were not for the difficult practices and competitions and the times where I did not think it was worth all the time and energy. It was the way I imperfectly handled these situations that have taught me that perfection is not everything, to always aim high, and being who you are and not how others define you is what matters most.

Emma Simpkins

Running Start Congressional Fellow

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