Why I’m No Longer Sold on ‘Recovering Perfectionist’
Why I’m Rethinking the Term—and What It Says About Us
You’ve probably seen it in bios and captions, maybe even in mine: recovering perfectionist. It’s meant to be a wink to those who know, for those of us who have spent years trying to get things just right, who carry the weight of everyone’s expectations like it’s our full-time job. But lately, I’ve started to question the term. Not because I don’t relate to it. I do, 100%. But, because I think we need to talk more deeply about what “recovering” implies, who it is used to describe, and what that says about our current culture.
As a therapist who specializes in therapy for therapists in Texas, especially those navigating people-pleasing, overachieving, and perfectionism, I’ve spent a lot of time unpacking the stories we tell ourselves about how we should be. And perfectionism? That one runs deep. But is it always something we need to "recover" from? Or is this another iteration of the dominant narrative telling us how we should be?
Would We Say This About a Man?
“Part of the urging to stamp out perfectionism in women arises because perfectionism is a powerful energy”
Let’s start here: Why is it almost always women who are labeled as “recovering” perfectionists? When a man is meticulous, ambitious, and detail-oriented, we tend to call him disciplined, focused, and a natural leader. He’s respected for his high standards. However, when a woman demonstrates the same traits, she’s often seen as rigid, uptight, or difficult. She’s told to lighten up, to stop being so intense, to "go with the flow.” People want to hire an ambitious and detail-oriented man, but no one wants to work with a rigid and difficult woman.
This double standard doesn’t just impact how others see us, it impacts how we see ourselves. We start to internalize the idea that our strengths are actually flaws. That our attention to detail is something to be ashamed of. So when we call ourselves “recovering perfectionists,” it’s often an attempt to soften who we are to make others more comfortable. But maybe it’s time to stop making ourselves smaller to fit inside someone else’s idea of who we should be.
Not All Perfectionism Is the Same
There’s a spectrum to perfectionism, and not all of it is harmful. Adaptive perfectionism can be a powerful asset. It motivates us to produce meaningful work, to meet our goals, and to care deeply about what we do. It gives us pride in our contributions and can serve as a sign of commitment, creativity, and care.
Maladaptive perfectionism, however, is rooted in fear. It stems from a belief that anything short of perfect means that we are a failure, and it can create a cycle of anxiety, avoidance, and self-criticism. It’s not the striving that harms us, it’s the shame and fear that often come with it if we fall short of perfection.
When we lump all perfectionism into a single category and say we’re "recovering" from it, we risk dismissing the strengths that come from our drive. Instead of trying to erase perfectionism altogether, what if we focused on shifting the why behind it? What if we looked at perfectionism as a gift that needs to be nurtured and honed?
What It Means to “Recover”
The word “recovering” implies a return to health after illness. It suggests that perfectionism is a pathology, a disease we must heal from. That framework makes sense from a medical model that connects clear causes, direct treatment plans, and measurable outcomes. However, life is not so clear. Most variables are correlational, not causational. Not everyone is striving for the same outcome. And, is a behavior really a disease? Last time I checked, perfectionism cannot be treated with a shot or pill.
Realistically, perfectionism often functions more like a strategy than a sickness. It’s a way of coping, controlling, and creating safety in uncertain environments. Many of us became perfectionists because it was how we earned approval, avoided conflict, or protected ourselves in high-pressure systems. Framing it as a pathology can obscure its origins, rooted in instability and trauma, which robs us of the opportunity to relate to it with curiosity and compassion.
What if, instead of recovering from perfectionism, we learned to redirect it? What if we honored the parts of it that have served us, and gently released the parts that no longer do?
Accomplishments, Identity, and What We Celebrate
“As long as you’re playing small, that energy rattles inside you and makes you ache. Stop cursing the ache and become curious about why it’s there. If you’re a perfectionist, you want more of something. What is it? Why do you want that? How do you imagine getting what you want will make you feel? Perfectionism invites a deep, unending exploration of who you are and what you most desire from this life.”
Here’s another layer: many “recovering perfectionists” have achieved incredible things because of their perfectionistic traits. They’re the ones who go the extra mile, who anticipate needs before they’re expressed, who bring a sense of calm and order to chaos. Their standards have made them dependable, admired, and successful at work and in relationships.
But that very gift of perfectionism can also become a curse if it is not. Because once your identity is built around being the one who "does it all," it can feel impossible to step back. You might worry you’ll let people down. Or worse, that without your perfectionism, you’ll lose your edge. So when you’re told to “recover” from it, it can feel like being asked to let go of the very thing that defines you.
That’s why it’s important to make space for nuance. You don’t have to abandon your drive, your eye for detail, or your ambition. But you can stop tying your worth to your ability to always keep everything perfect. You can choose what to keep and what to heal.
i’m complicit: I’ve Used the Term Too
Let me be transparent: I’ve used the term “recovering perfectionist.” I’ve written it in captions, said it in sessions, and nodded along when clients claimed it. Heck, I have used it to describe myself and used it during elevator speeches to rooms full ofmy peers. And for some people, it’s the right fit. It’s language that feels validating, like putting a name to something you’ve felt for a long time. But I’m also reevaluating that term. Because it’s okay to change your mind when you learn more information. It’s okay to grow, to shift how you see things. That’s the whole point of continuing with therapy, consultation, and supervision, right?
And part of what I’m learning is that calling ourselves “recovering” can sometimes reinforce a binary of broken vs. fixed that just doesn’t capture the nuance of being a high-functioning human with complex coping strategies. We deserve language that leaves space for growth, complexity, and choice.
Burnout or Exploitation?
Reflecting on “recovering” has also made me think about how language shapes not just how we see ourselves, but where we place responsibility. Take the word burnout. It focuses on the individual—how tired, overwhelmed, or emotionally depleted we feel. It suggests that we’re the problem, that we’ve pushed ourselves too hard, or failed to self-care adequately. Normally, we hear all about how, to fix burnout, the individual has to make changes to better meet the demands better.
But what if we used the word exploitation instead? That changes the focus. It draws attention to the systems, structures, and employer expectations that demand more than anyone should give. Suddenly, the solution isn’t just another self-care strategy or a better morning routine. It’s structural change, accountability, and boundaries. It acknowledges that people are under resourced to meet the unrealistic demands of a profession.
Using language like "recovering perfectionist" or "burnout" can subtly reinforce the idea that the issue is us — our mindset, our personalities, our inability to cope. But what if the real issue is how much we’re expected to give? What if the real question isn’t, "Why can’t you handle it?" but "Why are you being asked to handle so much?"
If we’re going to talk about perfectionism, overfunctioning, and chronic burnout, we need to tell the truth about where that pressure comes from, not just within us, but all around us.
The Middle Path
“You don’t achieve liberation through control; you achieve liberation through acceptance.”
So maybe the answer isn’t to reject perfectionism entirely, or to cling to it blindly. Maybe it’s about being more conscious. Can we hold ourselves to high standards without letting those standards define our worth? Can we honor the parts of us that want to do well, without letting them run the show?
You don’t need to recover from being driven. But you might need to recover from believing your value is tied to your productivity.
You don’t need to heal from wanting things done well. But you might need to heal from believing that your needs don’t matter.
There’s a middle path. And it’s one where you get to choose what you keep, what you shift, and what you no longer carry.
If you’re ready to stop labeling yourself and start living in alignment with your actual values, I’d love to help. I offer therapy for therapists and helpers in Texas who are ready to unhook from old narratives and live more freely.
✨ Want to work together? You can book a consultation here or visit www.SageHolisticCounseling.com/contact
Let’s find a version of you that isn’t recovering—just becoming.
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