My username is grammatically incorrect, and it's Substack's fault

On how Substack messed up my plans, causing my perfectionist mind to go into panic mode, but still managed to help me gain a little win against my biggest weakness.

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For the past few days, I’ve been thinking about the perfect way to introduce myself to you guys. I’ve always had trouble talking and writing about myself. I don’t know what used to be more troublesome for me: reducing myself to a few words, or going on and on about who I am.

However, I wanted to paint an honest picture of who I am and what you can expect of me, and I started overthinking it. I had a storm of thoughts swirling in my head: what username I should choose, what my bio should look like, what I should write first.

Finally, a name came to me: Imperfectionist. I was so proud of myself, because it can be understood in two opposite ways, yet both quite correct. It can mean that I’m (a) perfectionist, but also that I am an imperfectionist. What a lovely wordplay, If I may say so myself.

But how can I be both?

Well, for as long as I’ve known myself, I’ve been a perfectionist burdened with the need to be the impeccable daughter, sister, student, friend, girlfriend, coworker. I used to be so distraught even thinking about making a mistake, or somebody seeing me as anything less than a perfectly mannered and well educated person. Never too loud, too opinionated, too confident, too emotional, too anything.

What a pitiful life it was, lived only for others’ validation. Because in my case, I always knew that I am far from perfect, so I didn’t need to fool myself, just everybody else. Not a tall order at all.

(I have an inkling as to why I was like this, but I don’t want to overburden you just yet.)

Alas, a few years ago I started fighting that urge, trying to be a more honest and relaxed person. It has been working from time to time. This is one of those times when it’s working, when my perfectionist self is taking a breather from a, quite frankly, absolutely exhausting life.

So here I am, hoping that this less fearful, more confident yet realistic version of me will stay for good.

A few days ago, thanks to a kind nudge from my dear sister, I downloaded this app, typed “Imperfectionist” and my perfect plan crumbled. As it turned out, that username already existed, and to my surprise, quite a few pages had variations of it.

After the panic, my oldest friend finally arrived:

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to a perfectionist’s most faithful companion: Mister Giving Up Before You Even Started.”

Oh, how close we used to be, my friend and I.

Up until the point where I didn’t have enough space in my soul for one more abandoned idea. I used to think that, technically, I’m not giving up if I’ve never even started something. There’s nothing to give up on. Right? Throughout my 30-year-long life, I’ve carefully chosen what to take up and stick with, and what to leave in the purgatory of ideas and ambitions. From the outside looking in, I seem like quite a successful person. But on the inside, I’m just someone afraid of failure. Someone who keeps living in the so-called “comfort zone.”

But what once gave me a feeling of comfort now made me want to scratch, cry, and yell out of frustration. This time I heard that yell and I made a decision to try to live a more honest life. Honest with myself.

I didn’t give up. I asked for help.

My fiancée asked, “Wouldn’t it be funny if you wrote it incorrectly?”

“Well, it wouldn’t,” I thought. “I don’t want people to think I’m stupid.”

And then I realized the irony of the whole situation and I started laughing. What a mess, all because of one letter. In the past, I would’ve spent days, or even weeks, thinking about a completely different name, maybe even losing the desire to post anything at all.

That’s when I knew: this story should be the first thing I post.

What better way to introduce you to a chaotic perfectionist mind than with a story about an imperfect username and the drama it caused?

Substack felt like an enemy for a few moments, but now I’m grateful for it.
It helped me score a small victory before I even posted a single word. It gave me the chance to prove to myself I really have changed, and I took it.

So welcome!

If you’re a perfectionist like me, I hope I can be a friendly companion on your path to healing.

And if you’re lucky enough never to have discovered that trait in yourself, here’s a chance to get to know it a little better. Because there are a lot of us out there.

And of course, I can’t wait to write about my other struggles (what a promising welcome indeed!), Art History, my creative projects, and thoughts on the artist’s place in this crazy world.

Stay close. Stay imperfect.

Love,

Your Inperfectionist

P.S. I wanted to share the song I’ve been listening to on repeat for days. It’s been playing in the background of my mind while I wrote this post, so somehow, I couldn’t end this introduction without including it.

The song is called “Be Careful” by Ricky Martin and Madonna.
An interesting combination. Trust me, it’s not the upbeat summer hit you might expect.