Anything Worth Doing

Advice in the form of pithy little statements is—and has to be—of a general nature, not applicable across the board. I know that logically, but some sayings are so deeply ingrained they might as well be encoded in my DNA. “If you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all”; “treat others how you’d like to be treated”; “anything worth doing is worth doing well”.

This last saying is the subject of this post, because a lot of my growth this year has been in letting go of perfectionism. My sister-in-law Aimee, a fellow recovering perfectionist, brought the saying’s fraternal twin to my attention: anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.

It sounds strange, objectionable: shouldn’t you always strive to do your best? Isn’t it good to do things well? Well, yes—but not if that’s the standard you hold yourself to in order to do anything at all, and that’s where I’ve been a lot of my life. Here’s a non-exhaustive list of things I haven’t done in the past because I couldn’t do them well or consistently enough to consider them worth doing:

• clean / tidy up a room
• reach out to a friend
• send a care package
• journal
• maintain a day planner
• draw
• practice an instrument

None of these things have to be done perfectly. A missed week in a planner doesn’t hurt anyone; even a missed month doesn’t. If it bugs me, I can doodle or write lists on the empty pages so I’m not wasting paper. It’s still worth using a planner poorly for all the times it helps me get organized. Reaching out to a loved one is probably always worth it, even if I can’t catch them up on absolutely everything that’s been happening in my life lately. I don’t have to be good or consistent in my hobbies in order to enjoy doing them.

Maybe most people grew up knowing these things. Maybe they didn’t conflate imperfection with failure. Either way, I needed Aimee’s version of the saying in my life, and you can often find me tramping around the house yelling “perfectionism is a disease!” when I’m frustrated with my need to do things right. In my willingness to do things poorly, I’ve picked up all sorts of new skills and habits. I cook more; I’ve been baking all sorts of bread; I write with more ease; I get more exercise. Giving myself permission to fail seems halfway synonymous with giving myself permission to live, and I love that for me.

If you’re reading this in 2024—and there aren’t a lot of hours left to do that—I hope you carry a willingness to be hopeless at something into the new year. I hope you embrace failure and let it teach you. Not to brag, but I’ve been doing lots of things poorly lately, and it’s a lot more satisfying than doing very few things well.

Posting this with love and good wishes for the coming year. Happy Hogmanay!