Field Notes on Human Emotions

When “Not Enough” Turns Into Perfectionism

(and why your standards keep moving the goalposts)

Perfectionism looks so respectable from the outside. And I’m all about looking respectable!


You’re conscientious, detail‑oriented, reliable. People say things like “You do that so well” and “I don’t know how you do it all.”

But from the inside, perfectionism doesn’t feel like a badge of honor. It’s more like a full‑time nagging critic in your head that just won’t stop.


In case you don’t see it already, this post is for you if:

  • You can’t hit “send” on an email without editing it five times.
  • You hesitate to start anything unless you’re sure you can do it “right.”
  • You finally finish something and immediately see everything you should’ve done better.
  • You worry about how others are going to judge your work.

And underneath all that? A familiar story: “If I don’t get it perfect, I’m not (good/smart/detailed/attentive/interested/committed/talented/educated/experienced/other) enough.” Feel free to read that sentence again and select all the options that apply.

 

What’s really going on underneath perfectionism

Perfectionism doesn’t show up out of nowhere one Tuesday because you love spreadsheets and tidy edges. It usually starts in rooms where “getting it right” wasn’t just appreciated, but was how you stayed safe, loved, and out of trouble.


Maybe you grew up with messages like:

  • “If you’re going to do it, do it right.”
  • “Why didn’t you get an A?”
  • “You know better than that.”
  • Or my favorite – someone took over the project and said “if I want something done right, I have to do it myself”.


Or maybe nobody said much at all. You just watched the adults around you:

  • Overwork themselves to prove their worth.
  • Hold impossible standards and then fall apart under them.
  • Withhold love or approval when things weren’t “good enough.”


When you’re little, you don’t think “Ah yes, my parents have unresolved perfectionism and shame. Let me now develop a trauma‑informed response.” You just feel what you feel and notice what seems to keep you safe.


Your body quietly takes notes:

  • “If I make mistakes, things go south fast.”
  • “If I get everything right, they’re nicer to me.”
  • “My value is in what I produce, not in who I am.”
  • “All the attention goes to those who do something better.”


Those notes don’t stay in a childhood diary. They become settings in your nervous system like a perfectionism filter you forgot you installed.

So now, as an adult:

  • You triple‑check everything because your system is convinced that mistakes equal danger.
  • You hesitate to try new things because the risk of “doing it wrong” feels bigger than the possibility of joy.
  • You struggle to rest, because some part of you believes that worth must be constantly earned.


From the outside, it looks great and earns praise, but on the inside, your nervous system is working overtime trying to avoid the shame, criticism, or withdrawal it remembers.


This doesn’t mean your childhood was all terrible or that someone has to be “the villain” because of your current situation. It simply means your emotional world developed in an environment where earning safety and love through performance made sense and your system hasn’t gotten the memo yet that you’re allowed to live differently now.

 

A compassionate reframe: perfectionism as a loyal protector

Plot twist – Contrary to what you might have believed for decades, perfectionism is not just “who you are”. What if it’s evidence that your system has been working overtime to keep you safe?


Perfectionism might show up as:

  • Over‑preparing for conversations, emails, or projects.
  • Avoiding decisions because you want the “perfect” one.
  • Feeling nauseous at the idea of disappointing someone.
  • Replaying mistakes on loop and deciding they say something terrible about you.


Are those patterns exhausting? Yes. Are they understandable, given what your system lived through and learned? Also yes.


Here are some possible alt perspective:

  • Your perfectionism is a survival strategy.
  • Your high standards are an alarm system built to keep you out of shame or rejection.
  • Your “never enough” loop is just an echo of times when love or safety felt conditional.


The good news is you can change all this more easily that you think, and you don’t have to fight or hate yourself while you’re changing.


Instead of thinking, “Why am I like this?” you can begin to ask “does it make sense that I’d do this, given what I’ve lived through?”


That question is kinder, more accurate, and far more useful. From there, you can start gently teaching your system new options:


“Thank you for trying to protect me. Let’s see what it feels like to try something different now.”

 

A simple 5–10 minute practice when perfectionism spikes

This isn’t a magic fix. It’s a small, doable way to relate differently to perfectionism in the moment, instead of letting it run the show.


Try this next time you are rewriting an email for the seventh time or avoiding starting something because it has to be “perfect”:


Step 1: Name what’s happening (without judging it)

  • “Something in me is really worried about getting this right.”
  • “My perfectionism is loud right now.”

That shift from “I’m ridiculous” to “something in me is worried” can create some much needed space.


Step 2: Find one sensation in your body

Ask yourself:

  • “If this perfectionism lived somewhere in my body, where would it be?”

You might notice:

  • Tightness in your chest.
  • Pressure in your throat.
  • Fluttering in your stomach.
  • Tension in your jaw or shoulders.

You don’t have to analyze it. Just notice:

  • “Okay, there’s a knot in my stomach.”
  • “My shoulders are up by my ears.”

Step 3: Give it one line of compassion

Talk to that sensation as if it were a younger, little you:

  • “No wonder you’re so tight right now; mistakes used to feel dangerous.”
  • “Of course you’re bracing—this reminds you of times you felt judged.”

You’re not trying to make it disappear. You’re offering acknowledgment.


Step 4: Offer one tiny choice

Gently ask:

  • “Would it feel okay to soften 5%?”
  • “Would it feel okay if I let my jaw drop just a little?”

You’re not forcing anything. You’re inviting a tiny experiment.


Step 5: Close with a simple reassurance

Something like:

  • “You don’t have to earn your value with this email.”
  • “If this isn’t perfect, we’re still okay. I’m here with you.”

That’s it. A few minutes. You haven’t perfected non-perfectionism yet, and yet you have related to it differently and that counts.


Over time, these small, compassionate check‑ins begin to add up. Your nervous system slowly learns: “Maybe we don’t have to treat every decision like a pass/fail exam.”

 

How deeper work (like RIM) can help transform perfectionism

Everyday practices like this are powerful, and sometimes your system is asking for deeper help.


That’s where RIM (Regenerating Images in Memory) can make a difference.

Instead of just talking about perfectionism, RIM helps you step into an inner “virtual reality” and work directly with the emotional memories that taught you:

  • “I must earn love.”
  • “I can’t make mistakes.”
  • “Who I am is less important than what I produce.”


You’re not re‑living painful moments for the sake of it. You’re entering those scenes long enough to experience something new: safety, voice, and unconditional worth in places where that wasn’t available before.


Because your deeper emotional mind leads the way, you’re not guessing what the “root cause” is. Your body and inner imagery show us where to go, and together we let those younger parts of you finally get what they needed.


If perfectionism has become the way you survive, RIM can help your system learn a different way to feel safe - one where enoughness isn’t something you constantly have to earn.

 

A gentle next step

If perfectionism has been running your schedule, your decisions, or your self‑worth, you don’t have to wrestle it alone or “fix” it overnight.


You can:

  • Start with the tiny body check‑ins above.
  • Notice when “not enough” hides inside your standards.
  • And, when you’re ready, explore deeper work to update the part of you that still believes perfection is the only path to safety.


And if you’re tired of trying to “think your way out of it,” you don’t have to do this alone. You can:


Either way, you’re welcome to bring all of you, big feelings included.

Your emotions don’t just “show up.” They kick the door in.

One text, one tone of voice, and suddenly you’re flooded, shut down, or replaying the moment on loop.


You’ve probably tried to “just get over it.” But here’s the truth: your nervous system isn’t being dramatic—it’s trying to protect you, based on what it learned a long time ago.


This post is for you if your feelings feel bigger than everyone else’s and you’re tired of thinking that means something is wrong with you.

 

What’s really going on underneath (it’s not that you’re “too much”)

When your emotions feel like they kick the door in, it’s easy to assume the problem is you. You might think, “Other people don’t react like this. I must be too sensitive, too dramatic, too something.”


But your emotional intensity didn’t appear out of nowhere, one random Tuesday.

Your nervous system learned how to respond a long time ago—often in a house, a classroom, or a family where big feelings weren’t exactly welcomed with warm cookies and a hug.


Maybe you grew up hearing things like:

  • “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
  • “You’re overreacting/you’re too sensitive.”
  • “We don’t talk about that.”

Or maybe nobody said anything at all. You just watched the people around you explode, shut down, pretend everything was fine, or disappear emotionally when things got hard.


When you’re little, you don’t have a manual that says,

“Ah yes, my caregiver is emotionally unavailable, I shall now develop a complex coping strategy.” You just feel what you feel and notice what seems to get you connection—or what gets you in trouble.


Your body quietly takes notes: “Big feelings = danger.”

  • “If I show what I feel, I get punished, ignored, or laughed at.”
  • “If I swallow my feelings, people stick around.”


Those notes don’t stay in a childhood diary. They become automatic settings in your nervous system—like the default mode on a phone you forgot you set up.


So now, as an adult:

  • Your emotions surge quickly because your body is scanning for any hint of “this will hurt like it did back then.”
  • You might shut down because that used to be safer than being visible with your feelings.
  • You replay conversations because your younger self learned that “figuring out what you did wrong” might keep you from being hurt again.


From the outside, it can look like you’re “overreacting.” From the inside, your system is doing what it was wired to do: protect you from pain, rejection, or danger based on what it survived.


This doesn’t mean your childhood was all terrible or that someone has to be “the villain” for you to be struggling now. It simply means your emotional world was shaped in an environment where your nervous system had to work extra hard to feel safe and it hasn’t gotten the memo yet that you’re allowed to feel differently now.

In other words: your emotions aren’t trying to ruin your life. They’re trying (a bit clumsily) to keep you safe, using an old rulebook that no longer fits who you are or what you want.

 

A compassionate reframe: Your feelings as loyal protectors

Let’s pause and zoom out for a second. If you’ve spent your whole life feeling like your emotions are the problem, this may feel like a plot twist.

What if your big feelings aren’t proof that you’re broken? What is it’s evidence that your system has been working overtime to keep you safe?

The crying, the shutdown, the replaying conversations on loop - none of that is your failure.


It’s your nervous system saying, “I remember what happened last time. I refuse to let you go through that alone again.”

It might look like:

  • Flooding with emotion when someone raises their voice
  • Feeling panicky or ashamed after setting a tiny boundary
  • Having a “too big” reaction to cancellations, criticism, or silence

Are those reactions always convenient? No.

Are they understandable, given what your system lived through and learned? Absolutely.


Here’s the reframe:

  • Your intensity = a survival strategy.
  • Your sensitivity = an early warning system that was built to notice danger.
  • Your emotional “too much” = an echo of moments when you had to carry more than a child should have to carry.


That doesn’t mean you’re stuck with them exactly as they are forever.

It means you don’t have to fight yourself or shame yourself while you’re healing.

Instead of thinking, “What’s wrong with me?” you can begin to ask,

“Why does this reaction make sense in light of?”


That question is kinder, more accurate—and a lot more helpful.

And from there, you can start gently teaching your system new options:

“Thank you for protecting me.” “Let’s see what it feels like to do this a little differently now.”


5 Simple Steps in a few minutes when everything feels like too much

This isn’t a magic fix, but it is a small, doable way to start relating differently to your emotions when they’re loud.


Try this the next time your feelings kick the door in:

Step 1: Name what’s happening (without judging it)

  • “Something in me is really activated right now.”
  • “My emotions are having a lot to say.”

Even that small shift—from “I’m a mess” to “something in me is activated”—creates a bit of space.


Step 2: Find one sensation in your body

Ask yourself:

  • “If this feeling lived somewhere in my body, where would it be?”
  • You might notice tightness in your chest, heaviness in your stomach, pressure in your throat, buzzing in your hands.


You don’t have to analyze it. Just notice:

  • “Okay, there’s a knot in my chest.”
  • “My stomach feels heavy.”


Step 3: Give it one line of compassion

Talk to that sensation as if it were a younger part of you:

  • “No wonder you’re so tight right now.”
  • “Of course, you feel heavy—this reminds you of something old.”

You’re not trying to make it disappear. You’re offering acknowledgment.


Step 4: Offer one tiny choice

Gently ask:

  • “Would it feel okay to soften 5%?”
  • “Would it feel okay if I let my shoulders drop just a little?”

You’re not forcing anything. You’re inviting a small experiment.


Step 5: Close with a simple reassurance

Something like:

  • “I’m here with you. We’re not alone this time.”
  • “We can come back to this later if it’s too much right now.”


That’s it. 5–10 minutes, tops.


You haven’t “fixed” your whole life, and yet you have related to your emotions differently, and that matters. Over time, these tiny moments of presence and compassion begin to add up. Your nervous system slowly learns: “Maybe we don’t have to hit the emergency alarm every single time.”

 

How RIM can help when emotions feel like too much

Everyday practices like the one above are powerful - and sometimes your system is asking for deeper help. That’s where RIM (Regenerating Images in Memory) comes in.


Instead of just talking about your reactions, RIM helps you step into an inner “virtual reality” and work directly with the emotional memory that’s driving your overwhelm.


You’re not replaying old pain for the sake of it; you’re entering the scene long enough to experience a do‑over—where you have safety, voice, and agency in ways you never did at the time.


Because your deeper emotional mind leads the way, you’re not guessing what the “root cause” is. Your body and inner imagery show us where to go, and together we let that younger part of you finally get what it needed.


If you’d like to know more about how RIM works and how it’s different from other approaches, you can read the full explanation on RIM Sessions.

 

A gentle next step

If your emotions feel like too much and you’re tired of trying to “think your way out of it,” you don’t have to do this alone.

You can:

Either way, you’re welcome to bring all of you, big feelings included.