“Perfectionism is self-abuse of the highest order.” — Anne Wilson Schaef

I’ve often been told that I seem to “be able to do it all.” When people ask, “Is there anything you can’t do?” I jokingly respond, “Yeah, I can’t make pumpkin pies!” But the truth behind that perception is more complicated.

I was diagnosed with ADHD in my 50s, though I’d long suspected something wasn’t quite right. My children, who were also diagnosed with ADHD (many as adults), recognized the same traits in themselves and pointed them out to me. I believe throughout my life, I developed coping mechanisms to manage some of the challenges of living with undiagnosed ADHD.

One of the most notable symptoms in me of ADHD is hyperfocus. When something captures my attention, I can become intensely absorbed in it, sometimes to the point of losing track of everything else. This has allowed me to become highly knowledgeable in areas that interest me, and I tend to stick with them long enough to master them.

The image that others may see of me “doing it all” is influenced by this symptom of ADHD, but it’s important to remember that ADHD adds complexity to my experience. While I manage many things, it’s never without effort, and not everything falls perfectly into place.

A recent conversation with my therapist revealed another layer to my perceived perfection. She asked me how my classes were going, and I shared how much I was enjoying them and doing well, with all A’s. Then I mentioned something I’d noticed about myself: I had become hyper fixated on my grades and study habits. Even when there were no outstanding assignments to be graded, I would check my grades up to five times a day. Instead of watching a podcast and taking notes, I was watching it, watching it and taking notes, then going over the notes again later. When I scored anything less than 100%, I felt frustrated and disappointed, despite all my assignments being above 92%.

When she asked why I thought I was doing this, I reflected that it wasn’t about lack of confidence or self-worth. I explained that knowing I had the ability to excel made me feel compelled to meet those high standards. Missing the mark, even slightly, was frustrating because I knew I could do better.

She then recommended the book “Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less” by Greg McKeown. As we discussed it, she emphasized the phrase “the pursuit of less.” When she said it—twice—I felt a visceral reaction. My body tightened, and I felt anxious. I pointed this out to her, and she paused to ask why I thought I was reacting that way.

In that moment, something clicked for me. Growing up in Mormonism, I was constantly taught to strive to do more, serve more, and become more. The idea of “less” was foreign—almost sinful. It hit me that I had internalized the belief that I was never enough, and equating “doing less” with failure or sin was ingrained in my psyche.

We discussed the talk by Elder Dallin H. Oaks’ “Good, Better, Best” (2007). While I couldn’t recall the specifics, I remembered the message and how it reinforced the idea that “good” wasn’t enough. It was always about striving for “best.” That mindset shaped so much of how I approach life today, making the concept of pursuing less feel uncomfortable and even wrong, somehow sinful.

The emphasis on striving to improve and achieve spiritual goals is evident in several prominent LDS talks, such as Elder Jeffrey R. Holland’s “Be Ye Therefore Perfect—Eventually” (2017), and President Russell M. Nelson’s “Perfection Pending” (1995). While these talks, on the surface, aim to teach a balance between personal effort and reliance on divine grace, I’ve come to realize that the topic caused some deeply rooted trauma for me. Instead of finding peace in progress or grace, I internalized a need to do more, be more, and strive endlessly to be the best version of myself—often at the expense of my own well-being. These teachings, though valuable to many, inadvertently reinforced a belief in me that doing less was synonymous with failure or even sin, perpetuating a cycle of constant pressure to excel.

I’ve come to a place where I’ve realized that I don’t have to be anything other than myself. I no longer feel the need to live up to arbitrary standards set by others, including those imposed by religion. Accepting myself for who I am and choosing to live authentically has been liberating. I still strive to do my best and enjoy pursuing multiple hobbies and interests, but I’ve learned to release the perfectionism that once consumed me.

Through uncovering the roots of my perfectionism, I’ve found clarity and freedom. I no longer obsessively check grades or overcommit to things I don’t want to do or have time for—habits that once caused me unnecessary stress. In the past, I would have said yes to everything out of fear of falling short, only to suffer through the burden. Understanding where these tendencies came from has allowed me to set boundaries and embrace balance.

I now recognize how the influence of religious teachings emphasized my lack and the constant need to do more to be worthy of acceptance. The idea that I had to be on an endless path of self-improvement to live with God and my family in the afterlife no longer defines me. Ironically, I’ve learned more about the concept of grace outside of religion than I ever did within it.

These realizations have been transformative, allowing me to set boundaries, find balance, and live authentically. Part of this growth has also been shaped by my ADHD diagnosis. Recognizing how hyperfocus has both challenged and enabled me to succeed has helped me better understand myself. The coping mechanisms I developed, though imperfect, allowed me to adapt, but they also contributed to the perfectionism I’m now learning to let go of.

Today, I know that I don’t have to master everything or be the best at all times. Instead, I can focus on what truly brings me joy and fulfillment. Life feels lighter when I prioritize progress over perfection, and I give myself the grace to simply be human. And while I may not ever learn to make a pumpkin pie, I’m okay with that. After all, life’s about savoring what you love—not forcing perfection into the mix.