a letter to the manic perfectionists

something a little more raw, a little more real, and a little less perfect (but who really cares about that last part?)

Before you read this, take a moment. I want you to intentionally digest what’s in front of you—not just skim through it. This letter won’t be perfect, and that’s okay. That’s kind of the point.

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Dear fellow manic perfectionist,

I hope you're doing okay today. As I write this, it’s 9:58 AM in my time zone, and I woke up about five minutes ago—still caught in that morning haze. Bear with me.

I’ve had this post drafted for a while, knowing I wanted to continue my Letters To series but getting stuck on how to write it. I kept waiting for the right words, the right structure, to pop into my brain. I was waiting for ‘the right moment’ if such a thing can even exist. I wanted it to be perfect. (I know, ironic.) In pursuit of figuring out how to write this post, I’ve realized that I still am the person who overthinks every little thing. The person who drafts and re-drafts and then hesitates to hit “post” because what if it’s not good enough?

And that’s exactly why I’m writing this now.

This morning, I woke up and thought, What if I just write? No over-editing, no reworking, no chasing some impossible standard of “perfect” writing—just put the words out there. So, here it is. A perfectly imperfect way of proving that things don’t need to be flawless to have meaning. (And guess what? It’s already better than the version that never got finished.)

And that brings me to you. To us.

If you’re anything like me, perfectionism has probably kept you stuck. Maybe it stops you from starting things, or finishing them, or sharing them at all. Maybe it convinces you that if something isn’t done perfectly, it’s not worth doing at all. Maybe it masquerades (I love using that verb) as a voice of reason, telling you that you have to wait for the right time and now isn’t it. Well guess what? There is no ‘right time.’ There is just time and what you choose to do with it.

Perfectionism isn’t about high standards—it’s about fear. Fear of judgment. Fear of failure. Fear of putting something out into the world and realizing it’s not good enough.

But here’s what I need you (and me) to remember:

1. Done is better than perfect: Your rough draft, your first attempt, your messy work-in-progress—all of it is better than something that never leaves your head. Start before you're ready. Put something down and work on it. If you wait to have the perfect idea, the perfect words, the perfect… well everything before you even get something down on the page, you never will get something on the page.

2. No one cares as much as you think they do: That awkward sentence? That tiny mistake you only realized after submission? That thing from two weeks ago you wish you had worded differently? Nobody’s zooming in on it like you are. People are too busy thinking about their own shit, exactly like you!

3. Imperfect things still hold value: The songs that hit you the hardest, the books that changed your perspective, the art that made you feel something—none of them were perfect. They were real. That’s what made them powerful.

4. You don’t have to earn the right to take up space: This one is definitely a self-target, but I’m adding it here in case someone else resonates:

• You don’t need to be polished or put together to show up.

• You don’t have to have all the answers before you speak.

• You don’t need to prove you’re worthy of existing out loud, of sharing your thoughts, of creating things that are messy, unfinished, and still in progress.

Somewhere along the way, we convinced ourselves that our voices only matter if what we say is perfectly structured, perfectly insightful, perfectly correct. That our work is only valuable if it’s refined, well-received, and impossible to criticize. That we, as people, have to be worthy of attention before we’re allowed to take up space in any real way.

But that’s BULLSHITTTTT!!!

You are allowed to be seen as you are. You are allowed to take up space before you have it all figured out. You are allowed to create, to speak, to put things into the world before they are “perfect.”

And if you’ve been waiting for someone to give you permission—here it is.

Go take up space. You already have the right.

So here’s the deal: stop waiting. Stop convincing yourself you need to have it all figured out before you start. Stop letting perfectionism rob you of momentum, of creativity, of the things you actually want to do.

Write the post. Say the words. Take the risk. Mess up. Get it wrong. Embarrass yourself a little. Learn. Keep going.

It won’t be perfect. But it’ll be real. And real is enough.

So with all the love in the world—and maybe a little tough love too—get out of your own way. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to start.

Imperfectly,

Jia, Joy in Abundance¹

1. I spent the least amount of time BY FAR writing this (about 34 minutes). If you truly did find meaning in this post, let that speak for itself. You do not need to chase the ‘perfect words’ for hours or have 12 thesaurus tabs or scour the internet for good ideas. You just need to write. What you have to offer is enough.