What it's like to be a lazy perfectionist

I'm incredibly hard on myself. Not in a 'where's the tiny violin?' kind of way, but I certainly set my standards high and don't exactly cope well with failure... at all. The education system was a weird one for me; whilst my older sister went above and beyond to create science projects worthy of a Turner Prize, I tended to cruise along always getting good grades but never really knowing how (much to her frustration). Don't tell my Mum - although she definitely already knows - University was more snakebite than study and as proud as I was to graduate, I can't help feeling a little underwhelmed by my efforts. "Laura, you're totally contradicting yourself. You're either a grafter or you're not." I know! And it's the reality of being a lazy perfectionist.

I think my problem is I don’t like practising. If it doesn’t come naturally to me, I undoubtedly struggle with the concept of 'try and try again'. I recently jumped on the bandwagon of so-called ‘self-help’ books, easing my way in with the recently popular ‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck’ to remain within my comfortable realms of overused expletives and a satire undertone. The first few pages irritated me; discussing the negative effects of social media and how millennials have become entitled seemed obvious and too safe to explore in a book that was going to make me see the world in a new light. By the end of chapter two, however, Manson’s exploration of his love for the ‘result’ had me reflectively nodding along.

“And what it took me a long time to discover is that I didn’t like the climb much. I just liked to imagine the summit.”

Winning, achieving, recognition, and success are all ego-boosting perks of life that keep us functioning as human-beings without totally losing the will to live. It feels good to thrive but categorically worse to fail. I think that's probably why I demand so much of myself but would rather nurture the skill set I already have than risk the chance of falling on my face. Don't get me wrong, I'll give anything a go once, but the feeling of being disappointed in myself or worse still, thinking people around me are disappointed when they discover my shortfalls often has me shooting for the moon so I can comfortably land amongst the stars.

For me, the word lazy was not something I was brought up believing was an acceptable way of trudging through life. While my Mum enjoys nothing more than popping her feet up in front of the latest BBC drama with a large glass of Pinot, you can rest assured she's done 4 hours hard labour in her beautiful garden, grabbed a coffee with a friend and tidied the house top to bottom for the 4th time that week before considering having a sit down. I use the adjective lazy for lack of a better word. It's not like I don't aspire to do great things, in fact, quite the opposite which is more than half the problem, but I think fearing failure facilitates comfort zones and the vicious cycle that coincides with staying in your own.

Equally, labelling myself 'lazy' isn't a sad representation of self-deprecation. I know I'm not stupid, nor would I ever doubt my ability to master a new skill had I the patience to invest in it. Take painting for example: in the hungover daze that is January the 1st year after year, I had a quiet word with myself and agreed I'd try to work on my incredibly amateur understanding of how to use watercolours and not look like you'd just spilt your mixing palette on the page. I love painting and spend time envying those who can put paintbrush to paper and create something mind-blowingly beautiful probably more than I should. How many times have I sat down and painted since I promised myself I'd try to improve? A handful. Is this because I don't have the time or because I am too busy working on other equally creative projects? No - it's because the second the finished result doesn't accurately resemble the masterpiece I'd envisioned when I set my heart on it, I instantly wish I could go back in time to somehow repossess Monet's right hand and secure it to my own forearm. I have no shame in saying the destination is more important than the journey for me, despite the agenda inspirational Facebook quotes are trying to push.

So where does this leave me in terms of negotiating fundamental life stages such as pursuing a career or (hopefully) building a family? Being a perfectionist goes hand in hand with the assumption there will always be greener grass elsewhere. Being a lazy perfectionist, however, throws into the mix the tricky business of not having the willpower to water my own plot. I hope I'll eventually accept that you can't be the best at everything and falling short of success is what rounds you off as a 'normal' person. A little healthy competition and understanding there will always be someone better than you at something is a hard truth you'd be ridiculous in thinking you were alone in experiencing. Until then, I'll keep reading the self-help books so it at least looks like I'm making progress. As the late, great Gandhi definitely never said, 'fake it 'til you damn well make it.'