The Art of Letting Go: How Being a Recovering Perfectionist Made Me a Better Mom and Entrepreneur

Once upon a time, I thought perfection was the goal. My to-do lists were color-coded. My inbox was zeroed out. My productivity defined my worth. I thought if I could just do it all right, I’d be a “good” mom and a “successful” entrepreneur.

But here’s the truth: perfectionism was wrecking my nervous system.

It was feeding my anxiety, keeping me up at night, and robbing me of the joy that was right in front of me—especially in motherhood.

According to the American Psychological Association, perfectionism has been steadily rising over the past 30 years. Researchers found a 33% increase in self-oriented perfectionism (setting unrealistically high standards for oneself) and a 16% rise in socially-prescribed perfectionism (feeling others expect you to be perfect). Women—especially moms—are disproportionately affected.

That used to be me. I believed every email needed the perfect reply, every dinner needed to be homemade, and every day had to be perfectly balanced between work and play.

But then I had my son. And I realized something had to change.

Perfection and Parenting Don’t Mix

Motherhood cracked open every illusion I had about control. Toddlers don’t care about your deadlines. They don’t operate on your schedule. They want the blue cup until they actually get the blue cup. They make messes in minutes and melt down for reasons that defy logic.

And when I tried to control everything? It made both of us miserable.

That’s when I started to shift. My therapist introduced a metaphor that has changed how I move through every day: the glass and rubber ball theory.

You’re juggling a lot of balls. Some are rubber—they’ll bounce if you drop them. Some are glass—if you drop them, they’ll shatter. The key isn’t to keep them all in the air. It’s knowing which ones can bounce right now, and which can’t.

This idea changed my motherhood. It allowed me to ask, “What really matters today?” Is it that I reply to every DM? Or that I show up for preschool pickup fully present? Is it cleaning the kitchen again… or dancing barefoot with my son while dinner’s in the oven?

Letting go of perfection didn’t make me lazy. It made me more present. More joyful. More alive.

The Mental Health Shift I Didn’t See Coming

Research backs this up: A 2022 study in Self and Identity found that self-compassion (the opposite of perfectionism) significantly reduces anxiety and depression in new mothers. Another study in Personality and Individual Differences showed that perfectionism is one of the strongest predictors of burnout—especially in high-achieving women.

When I started giving myself grace, my anxiety began to loosen its grip. I started breathing deeper. I started sleeping better. I started seeing motherhood as a rhythm, not a race.

I’m still ambitious. I still love a well-crafted calendar. But now I give myself permission to pause. I block off 3:30 to 7:30 every weekday so I can be fully present with my son. I don’t always reply to emails the same day. Sometimes I do bedtime in full glam because I didn’t get a chance to change. Sometimes I’m in sweats with a crusty topknot. Both are okay.

I’m learning that done is often better than perfect. That being a loving, human, present mom matters way more than being a Pinterest-perfect one.

If You’re Wired for Perfection, Here’s Your Permission Slip

If you’re reading this and nodding, here’s your gentle reminder:

You’re allowed to let some balls drop. You’re allowed to have cereal for dinner. You’re allowed to leave some emails unanswered. You’re allowed to change direction in your business. You’re allowed to ask for help.

And most importantly—you’re allowed to be enough exactly as you are.

Because the most powerful thing I’ve learned as a recovering perfectionist is this:

Perfection isn’t what makes you a great mom, business owner, or human. Presence does. Grace does. Joy does.

So put down the pressure. Light the candle. Take the meeting with your hair half-wet. Laugh at the chaos. Dance in the kitchen.

And remember: it’s okay if not everything gets done.

You’re not here to perform motherhood—you’re here to live it.