Perfect is the Enemy of Safe

I was 15 when my parents threatened to ground me for an A- on my otherwise "perfect" school report card. It was a particularly hard year for me — one with many shocks. Instead of receiving understanding and encouragement, I found myself raising my voice to defend against their insistence that I should have done better.

It wasn't fair.

I remember grabbing the paper report card I'd proudly carried home and, in my anger, slowly tearing it to pieces in front of them, their shocked faces now silent with surprise. Then, I turned and left our Cairo apartment, slamming the front door so hard the door frame shuddered as I stormed out of the house, defying their attempts to punish me by keeping me home and away from my friends.

I still admire the courage it took to stand up to my parents' insistence that the only acceptable standard was "perfect." I consider that part of me a hero for refusing to take on their unreasonable expectations. Instead of appeasing them, I fought back and refused to align with their unforgiving “standards.”

The incident stands out in my memory, because usually I would take on their perfectionism and make it my own. My learned response to their impossible standards was to do better, try harder, and work more. Whatever the cost, it was a price worth paying — an effort to avoid their open contempt when I didn’t meet the standards for perfection.

I wish I could tell the younger me that perfectionism was never a game worth playing because I was always only going to lose. I spent so much time trying to get it “right” by my parents’ standards that I never learned what “right” meant to me.

In families with complex trauma, perfectionism often becomes a mechanism of control. We control others by setting impossibly high expectations, then judging that they’re “not good enough” when they inevitably can’t meet them. Eventually, we internalize the perfectionism and recreate these exactingly high standards for ourselves, often unaware that we’re beating ourselves with the same stick that was raised against us in childhood.

That June afternoon in Cairo, the desert light casting a thin glow over the dining room, I did something new and different by speaking up for myself.

My usual response would have been to explain, my voice rising to an urgently high pitch in heated arguments as it became clearer and clearer that I couldn't win.

My normal reaction to my parents’ uncompromising insistence on perfection was to comply, obediently accommodating what was in fact impossible — and trying my hardest to achieve it anyway, to earn their love.

The standards being forced on me weren't right, but I didn't know that at the time. 

I believed that belonging, in my family, required perfection — and that anything less deserved contempt and even punishment because it simply wasn't "good" enough.

And as many of us know, it’s a short jump from "It's not good enough," to "I'm not good enough."

Perfectionism and Complex Trauma (CPTSD) in Families

Many of us who grew up with complex trauma (CPTSD) in our families learned, from an early age, that getting it "right" is a precondition for attention and love.

As children, we think that being perfect will earn us care. Instead, we learn that love is hard to get and easy to take away.

Because perfection was the only path to safety, that safety was always and forever just out of reach.

Needing to earn love through high performance sets us up for endless effort. Because any moment we might get it “wrong,” care and connection can be withdrawn at any time.

We become anxious and hypervigilant that we might slip up and make a mistake that jeopardizes how our parents treat us — shattering our fragile and still-growing self-esteem.

It is falsely empowering to be rewarded for high performance when disdain is only a single point of failure away. Constant vigilance and effort are required because a misstep could happen at any time.

It is also disempowering to be loved not for who we are but for our achievements. Instead of asking for help, we learn to hide because asking for support means we’re not "good enough."

In many families with complex trauma, we learn that we need to be "perfect" through one of two ways.

In families where “perfect” is the family culture, perfectionism is the price of belonging. We copy the behavior of other family members. It doesn't occur to us to do any differently.

This intergenerational trauma pattern burdens children with an innate sense of entitlement and grandiosity. We begin to see ourselves as “better than” others because our family members judge people that way. We learn to “look down” on others and treat them with contempt when they don’t meet our high standards — just like we expect to be treated, by our family, if we ever fail or don’t “measure up.”

The other way perfectionism shows up in families with complex trauma is when it’s a bid for approval. “If I’m perfect,” we say to ourselves, “maybe they’ll pay attention to me.” This happens in families with absent or neglectful parents. 

In this intergenerational trauma pattern, we learn that care is conditional and we must work hard to earn love. From this experience, we often carry the painful belief that we're "not enough."

If we’re cared for because of what we do, not who we are, then we are forever trying to be deserving “enough” to keep the supply coming.

Whichever pattern we grew up with, trying to be "perfect" to get love is harmful in deep and lasting ways.

Perfectionism and Complex Trauma (CPTSD) in Relationships 

Perfectionism sets us up for emotionally volatile and unrewarding relationships, because we’re chasing an emotional safety that remains forever out of reach. Because we base our self-esteem on our achievements, we’re always focused externally on others’ perceptions of us to get it “right.”

Any mistake or misunderstanding becomes a threat that we will no longer receive their love. We might respond by intrusively attempting to control their feelings or spiraling into shame and self-disgust. In our intimate relationships, this dynamic can easily spiral out of control, feel excruciatingly awful, and make us very difficult to live with. 

Until we reckon with the intergenerational trauma pattern of perfectionism, we’re unable to stomach that our drive to be perfect is the source of our pain. When we believe we’re only loved when we’re perfect, being “wrong” becomes not only uncomfortable, but emotionally unsafe.

We don’t realize we’re sabotaging the safety and connection we need by struggling to maintain control, look “perfect,” and get it “right.”

We might enforce the same uncompromising standards on our partners and expect them to comply unquestioningly.

We might be inflexible around decisions that require flexibility and make choices unnecessarily hard.

We also likely activate into a stress or trauma response when things don't go our way — fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. We respond with fear because we expect to experience the same harsh punishment and withdrawal of care we received in childhood.

One Danger of Perfectionism and Complex Trauma (CPTSD)

Perfectionism also puts us at risk of abusive relationships, which can have devastating impacts on our health and self-esteem.

Trying to be perfect means we're easily manipulated.

Any hint of "not good enough" or being wrong and we try even harder. We double down in the face of criticism, rather than discern and evaluate whether the other person is treating us with appropriate care. It’s easy to get trapped trying to earn our partners’ approval while they withhold it to maintain power and control. 

We become reluctant to voice our needs or set boundaries because we fear how others might respond. We don't ask for support and may even hide the pain we're in because we fear others will perceive us negatively for needing help.

This is how perfectionism keeps us from developing the healthy self-esteem that rewarding relationships require. 

Hope and Healing for Perfectionism and Complex Trauma (CPTSD)

Perfectionism learned in childhood teaches us to see imperfection as a fault to be controlled rather than a feature of our shared humanity.

We use high standards as a tool of control, directing contempt at ourselves or others when we don't measure up.

It makes us vulnerable to other people's perceptions and too rigid inside our own.

As painful as this is, the clarity that comes with recognizing these dynamics opens up a powerful path to healing.

We can direct our high standards towards learning how to develop our relational intelligence. We can heal the hypervigilance that comes from rigidity and learn to let in connection and care. We can shift intergenerational patterns that have likely tormented our families for generations and create something new and different for ourselves and those we love.

We can teach ourselves, through trauma work like the kind I offer, how to transform perfectionism.

We can keep our high standards and love of excellence while learning how to accept and even enjoy our imperfections. We learn that healthy relationships aren't based on performance, but on healthy self-esteem, shared love, and relational repair.

It's especially powerful to heal perfectionism as a couple. Often for the first time, we learn to take in that our partners love and respect us for who we are — not what we do or provide.

We learn to let in the grace of a love that isn't earned or deserved but is an answer to the depth of who we are. This is often something we've been waiting for our whole lives.

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Elie Losleben supports individuals and couples internationally through trauma resolution and embodied healing. She brings extensive training in somatic approaches and a deep understanding of how the nervous system shapes our capacity for connection. To learn more about working together, you're welcome to reach out.