Kicking the Compulsions Out the Door: Learning to Pause Instead of Perfect

Sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is pause.

Not push harder. Not fix. Not follow the urge.

Just pause.

Compulsions can be loud. They can feel like the only way to soothe the discomfort — the loop, the itch, the mental noise.

But what if that urge is lying to you?

What if it isn’t relief you’re chasing, but a cycle you’re feeding?

What Compulsions Look Like (Especially When They Don’t Look Like Much)

For me, compulsions don’t always show up as dramatic rituals.

Sometimes they look like checking one more thing. Re-reading. Re-doing. Starting again. Obsessively thinking something through until it feels right.

They sneak in wearing the mask of productivity or perfection.

But underneath, it’s draining. Time-consuming.

And when I realize that’s where I am — it’s time to break.

The Messy House, the Perfect House, and Me

Compulsion and perfectionism blur together in my home life too.

hen the house is messy, I feel it in my body — like something’s off-balance.The dishes, the shoes, the cluttered shelves and counters. The invisible pressure to “reset everything” until the space feels tidy and calm again.

But life with others means the mess keeps coming.

And when I can’t control it, the compulsion sometimes swings the other way — from overdoing to complete avoidance. From obsessive order to total surrender.

It’s not laziness. It’s defeat.

My husband often says, “It’s a home, not a museum.”

And he’s right — to a degree.

But what I heard underneath that was: “This is normal. You’re the one with the problem.”

Which translated to: “So you’re the one who has to fix it.”

That hit hard. Because maybe it is normal.

But I still feel it.

And that feeling doesn’t disappear just because I’m the only one who notices.

So it simmers. Quietly.

Until something in me shuts down — and I stop doing anything beyond what’s absolutely necessary.

Because it’s too much in my head, and the weight of it all feels too heavy in my body. And I end up on the opposite end of the spectrum: not perfection… but paralysis.

Family life doesn’t accommodate perfectionism.

But that doesn’t mean the need for order disappears.

It just hides — until I’m too tired to fight it, or too numb to care.

When Art Becomes a Mirror for Perfectionism

This also shows up in my creative work.

Creating has always been a huge part of my life.

But perfectionism has shaped how I approach it — sometimes helping, sometimes manipulating.

In high school art class, I struggled with still life drawings.

What I saw, I couldn’t express.

Every line out of place felt like pressure building.

Meanwhile, my friend — gifted in that area — sketched with ease and flow.

I compared myself, because my art didn’t look natural.

Eventually, I gave up. Later, I realized it wasn’t me — it was the type of art that didn’t suit me.

Then I made something just for myself:

A 3D race car out of paper for my dad’s birthday.

No rules, no assignment. Just feeling. Just vision.

And it turned out beautifully.

That moment reminded me: art doesn’t always need a deadline. Or symmetry. Or approval.

But when I create today — even something as simple as a blog post — it can take me hours.

Not because I don’t know what I want to say.

But because I can’t let it go until it feels right.

That’s perfectionism functioning like a compulsion.

Quiet. Demanding. Almost invisible — until it begins to take more than it gives.

Interrupting the Loop

Today, I caught the loop forming.

I felt the grip tightening around something I was working on — that familiar spiral starting again.

But instead of obeying it, I did something radical:

I got up. It didn’t feel amazing at first.

It felt uncomfortable — like leaving a sentence unfinished.

But a few minutes later, I dragged myself into a hot shower.

My thoughts softened. The urgency dimmed. I was back in my body.

I closed my eyes for a minute and let the water ground me.

Later, I went to bed early.

It felt like a relief.

Knowing I cut through the loop.

That I could take another look with a fresh eye the next day.

The truth is, compulsions thrive on urgency.

They feed on discomfort and promise false peace.

But real rest doesn’t come from giving in to the loop.

It comes from gently stepping outside of it.

A Final Word

You don’t have to win every battle with your mind.

Sometimes, it’s enough to simply opt out.

Acknowledge the pull.

Take a breath.

You don’t have to fix it right now.

Give yourself some space — and walk out of the room.

Let the door stay closed for a while.

You can return to it later — with a rested mind and steadier hands.

If today you need permission to pause — this is it.

Say no to the loop.

Say yes to rest.

And if all you do is interrupt the pattern, just once?

That counts.

---

What's stuck with you?

I'd love to hear it — drop me a quick note.