The Inheritance of Perfectionism

Working with the depth of meaning

It’s amazing what comes into awareness when you’re open and curious.

I wrote a piece for my Method writing class. It was about my Dad and was hard to write. It was even harder to read. One line stuck with me and kept coming back. It was:

“Measure twice”, said Dad as he handed me his steel rule.

When I wrote that line, I wasn’t conscious of the dual meaning. In awareness, I was referring to the well worn steel ruler my Dad used for his woodwork. A ruler I inherited and now use for my own DIY.

What was out of awareness, until I read the piece in class, was the other ‘steel rule’ I inherited from Dad. For Dad, precision mattered, details mattered, getting things right mattered and these mattered to me because he handed them over as if they were as tangible as his steel ruler.

I’ve reflected on this in recent weeks and it’s changing my perspective on my inheritance. Dad was a mixture of characteristics, no different to anyone else, and the messages, the knowledge, the experiences he gave me were equally mixed: neither good nor bad, beneficial or harmful. Life isn’t that binary. Lessons learned aren’t that clear cut.

I don’t know where this curiosity and insight will lead me, but it has caused me to wonder how open and curious I am in my coaching practice. How open am I to the hidden meaning which may sit behind the words my clients offer. Have I jumped too quickly to focus on the obvious? Am I complicit with my client’s desire to find a solution rather than explore the meaning?

Dad left me with a belief that things had to be ‘spot on’ and this gradually became a drive for perfectionism. That was the obvious. Many years ago, when I was coached on this issue, I didn’t want to let it go and my coach wasn’t curious about what really mattered to me, so I held fast. Curiosity would have led somewhere else, the value had nothing to do with perfectionism or the message.

What mattered was that the message was an inheritance. It was a connection to my Dad who had died a few years earlier. The message was precious because it connected me to him and I didn’t need to be ‘free’ of it, I needed to accept it and see what else it offered.

For sure, I sometimes wince at my own precision and work hard to practice my pragmatic self, but that precision has also saved me from a lot of mistakes. In terms of my practice? Who knows what impact this will have but I hope the reflection stays with me. If I jump too quickly to the obvious Dad might just pop into my thoughts and I’ll look a little deeper because staying open and curious is what really matters.