So, I decided my sewing machine needed to be cleaned.
Instead of spending money to take it to a shop, I figured I could watch a couple of YouTube videos and do it myself.
It actually started out great.
I took everything apart, cleaned it, and confidently began putting it back together. Then I got to the needle plate.
According to YouTube, it “just snaps back into place.”
Apparently, my sewing machine didn’t get that memo.
I pushed.
I wiggled.
I tried again.
Nothing.
That’s when those familiar perfectionist thoughts started whispering…and then yelling.
“Why did you think you could do this? You’re not even that great at sewing. You’re going to fail anyway.”
It’s amazing how quickly a stubborn piece of metal can turn into a referendum on your worth.
But this time, something felt different.
A quieter voice spoke up.
“Maybe you can.”
True, you’re not an expert at sewing.
But you can practice.
You can learn.
You can figure things out.
That subtle shift changed everything.
I’ve been thinking about the word perfectionism lately. The suffix -ism refers to a way of believing, thinking, or operating. And I realized something.
Perfectionism is exhausting. It’s also strangely counterproductive. The harder we chase perfection, the more afraid we become of making mistakes. Eventually, we stop trying new things altogether because failing feels too risky.
So what if, instead of practicing perfectionism, we practiced (im)perfection?
A different way of believing.
A different way of thinking.
A different way of operating.
One that embraces the messy parts of learning instead of fighting them.
One that expects mistakes because that’s where growth lives.
One that understands frustration and joy often travel together.
Perfection demands certainty.
(Im)perfection invites curiosity.
Here’s my working definition:
(Im)perfection: The belief that life gets a whole lot more interesting when you stop trying to avoid every mistake and start collecting them as evidence that you’re actually living.
Designer Marc Jacobs once said, “I always find beauty in things that are odd and imperfect—they are much more interesting.”
Maybe people are, too.
Maybe lives are, too.
I eventually got the needle plate back on.
Not because I suddenly became an expert.
But because I stayed with it a little longer than the perfectionist in me wanted to.
Maybe that’s what (im)perfection looks like.
Not flawless.
Not effortless.
Just one more try.
One more deep breath.
One more “Maybe I can.”
If this post gave you a little hope, a smile, or simply reminded you that you’re not alone, would you share it with someone who might need it today? 💙
But first a nap 