Never Good Enough-ism - The True Face Of Perfectionism

Perfectionism misrepresented 

Have you ever been told you're a perfectionist and felt completely baffled by it? Maybe misunderstood, or even a little insulted by the term? Because from the inside, perfectionism doesn't feel like precision or pride in our work. It can feel like a relentless, gnawing sense that whatever we do, it simply isn't enough. We don't seem able to keep the finish line in sight — it constantly moves away from us. We often stop when we're out of time or resources, not because we're happy we did the job well. There may be relief, but there's little satisfaction in it. However, noticing that gap between how perfectionism looks from the outside and how it feels from the inside is often already a step in the right direction.

Can we just call it what it is?

"Perfectionism", at least to me, conjures an image of someone meticulous, polished and calmly in control. But for many people living with it, the experience is closer to exhaustion, encumbering self-doubt, and a sense of pressure that never really lets up. A less polished but more honest description is: never good enough-ism.

Never good enough-ism reflects that internal state where no matter how much effort is poured into a task, it keeps expanding. It's the feeling of our work never quite accumulating into anything solid — something more is always needed. And this is not a lack of effort. The effort is precisely why we're exhausted. Like the film The Money Pit, with Tom Hanks. It seems like a great project to begin with — within budget, a challenge, but something we can surely complete. Somehow, though, that one small bit of work becomes a whole renovation, foundations and all. Now you feel completely beholden to the task, not in control of it.

The Inner Critic at the Wheel

Perfectionism — never good enough-ism — is often connected to an overbearing inner critic: that harsh internal voice that many of us carry. A key thing to understand about the inner critic is that it has good intentions, it has high standards and wants you to achieve them but, crucially, it doesn't offer feedback on how to do this. It offers criticism. There's a meaningful difference. Feedback gives you something to work with, what went well, what didn’t and what you might try differently next time. Criticism, by contrast, says: not good enough. Do better. Try harder.

Imagine handing in a report and being told, "Wrong. Do better next time." No specifics. No guidance. Just the instruction to try harder, as though the problem was effort rather than direction. You'd have no idea what to change or why. Many of us wouldn't let our bosses, supervisors or teachers get away with this. We'd clock it immediately as unhelpful and likely question their credentials. Yet that is precisely the kind of message the inner critic delivers, over and over again, and we accept it.

Without honest, constructive feedback, we can't learn. We can't course-correct. We can only run faster — driven forward by the sting of criticism, without ever stopping to ask whether we're running in the right direction.

The unacknowledged worker

What goes unseen in never good enough-ism is the sheer volume of effort being put in. The mental energy, the calculations, the planning, the striving. It’s huge, and yet the inner critic notices none of it. It only sees the gap between where we are and where it thinks we should be.

Think about what happens in a workplace when someone works incredibly hard and receives no acknowledgement for it. Eventually, resentment builds. When they’re constantly asked to do more, with no recognition of what they have already done, what they aways do, they become demoralised. They feel unseen. Over time they start to think: what's the point? The same dynamic happens internally.

As the inner critic demands more, the part doing all the work flags. When the inner critic points out “you still haven't reached the goal” the exhausted part doesn’t think: I need a better strategy. It thinks: well, I can't argue with that. I must be rubbish.

The effort disappears, unacknowledged. Those pages stay drafts, that three-week streak gets forgotten, the agonising over what to say in reply turns into no reply at all. The sense of hopelessness that follows is a completely understandable response to relentless ungrateful demand.

Acknowledgement where acknowledgement is due

The crucial shift here isn't about lowering our standards or giving ourselves a medal just for showing up. We're smart, we know that sometimes it is crossing the finish line that gets us the outward recognition we need or deserve. We can't pay the bills on effort alone. The necessary shift is smaller and far more meaningful than changing our standards. It's about broadening our self-perspective. Becoming aware of the whole picture. The part that is exhausted and striving. The part driving the whip, trying to help, but using a method that simply doesn't work. And other parts, too, with different strengths and skills that might serve us better. When we see and acknowledge ourselves in our entirety, rather than through the narrow lens of criticism, tends to shift quite quickly.

The inner critic, when it's understood rather than fought, can begin to recognise that shame and relentless pressure aren't motivation, they're a source of burnout. Its intentions may be good, but its approach has been undermining the very outcome it wants. And the exhausted, effortful part gets something it may rarely have received: acknowledgement. Not for achieving a result, but for how hard it has been working all along. This isn't about giving up on high standards. It's about discovering that awareness and self-compassion can take you further than criticism ever could