'I went to rehab to fix my drinking problem. Instead, I discovered the real issue.'

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The first time I was introduced to the concept of perfectionism, I was sitting in a psych hospital surrounded by a group of strangers in a circle.

I remember shifting around in the plastic chair, crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying to find a comfortable position, when this concept froze me into stillness.

My mind still hadn't caught up with the reality of my situation.

Two weeks earlier, I had checked myself into South Pacific Private Hospital in a desperate attempt to get my drinking under control. My thinking at the time was that a short stay in rehab would help me break the habit, reset my body and hopefully acquire the tools to re-enter society and "drink like a lady."

Sitting in that small, white-walled room, filled with posters of recovery acronyms and an image of Butterfly Hands (a technique to self-soothe), my allocated therapist, Nancy*, began handing out worksheets.

Each worksheet was designed to help us identify the core issue that had led us into treatment. We were told that the true problem was rarely the substance or behaviour itself, but the emotional pain that lived underneath it.

"Anna*, here's your Step One worksheet on alcoholism."

"Michael*, here's your Step One worksheet on codependency."

Then she turned to me.

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"Ashleigh, here's your Step One worksheet on perfectionism."

I blinked at her. Surely she was joking.

I had come to rehab to sort out my "minor" problem of drinking two bottles of wine a night, which in my mind had absolutely nothing to do with my Type A personality or my ambition.

Nancy smiled gently with pity in her eyes, the kind of look you give a child when they ask if their stuffed animals have feelings. She said, "having closely observed your behaviour over the past two weeks, it's abundantly clear that your core issue is a deep-seated belief that you're not good enough. And that's resulted in this relentless pursuit to be perfect."

I felt disoriented. I had always seen my ambition as something to be proud of. It was the way I had learnt to receive love and recognition. How could it possibly be the problem?

Sensing my confusion, she continued, "Put simply, Ash, your perfectionism will kill you before the drugs and alcohol ever do."

Image: Supplied.

Those words hit somewhere deep. And for the first time, I allowed myself to consider the possibility that the thing I thought was protecting me, was actually destroying me.

Because the truth was this: without perfectionism, I did not know who I was.

Where my perfectionism began.

I began developing perfectionistic traits from a young age.

Growing up in a family system affected by alcoholism, I struggled to receive the consistent nurturing I deeply craved. In our Melbourne household, AFL footy was basically a religion. Unfortunately for me, I did not inherit the sporting gene.

I resented the cold Winter weekends shivering around a football field watching my older brother play. So I began searching for a way to create my own identity. I thought that if I could be exceptional at something, maybe I too could earn the same admiration I saw my brother receive.

That is when I discovered the performing arts. Singing, dancing, musical theatre. And for a while, it worked. Any time I achieved a high grade or landed a lead role, I was met with the praise and acknowledgement I had been starving for.

Image: Supplied.

It was during these formative years that a core belief began to take shape in my mind:

• Achievement equals love.

• Success equals safety.

• Being impressive equals being enough.

And from that belief, perfectionism took hold.

So what is perfectionism really?

Perfectionism is not about having high standards. It is the belief that your worth is dependent on being exceptional. It is living with the fear that if you make a mistake, fall short or show your real self, you will lose love or be rejected.

Perfectionists are not proud of how hard they try. They are terrified of what will happen if they stop trying.

For me, perfectionism looked like:

Constant mental pressure: A relentless internal voice critiquing everything I did.Analysis paralysis: If it could not be done perfectly, I would avoid it entirely.Approval seeking: I needed other people to tell me I was doing well because I had no internal sense of my own worth.

And the more I achieved, the worse it became.

No success was ever enough. I would reach one goal and immediately move on to the next. The finish line simply kept shifting.

Image: Supplied.

On the outside, I looked driven, disciplined, put together.

On the inside, I lived with a chronic sense of not being enough.

The only time it ever went quiet was when I drank.

Alcohol gave me temporary relief from the voice. It softened the sharpness of my mind. For a few precious hours, I could feel peace.

Until it stopped working.

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How I healed.

If I hadn't checked myself into rehab, I may never have understood the true problem. Perfectionism is invisible because society praises the symptoms. Being driven, polished, high functioning. We reward the behaviour while ignoring the cost.

My recovery journey required me to turn inward. Through therapy, somatic work and deep inner-child healing, I began to uncover the beliefs I had formed as a child. The belief that I was not enough. The belief that love had to be earned. The belief that my value came from performance rather than from my inherent humanness.

Letting go of perfectionism was not a one-time choice. It was a dismantling. A returning. A remembering of who I was before the world told me to impress it.

Image: Supplied.

Today, I live differently.

My inner critic still speaks, but it no longer runs the show. When I feel myself spiralling into old patterns, I pause. I breathe. I connect with someone who understands this mind of mine. I choose to stay, rather than abandon myself.

For the most part, I live a life free from perfectionism now. I surround myself with people who love me for who I am, not who I perform to be. And most importantly, I know that my worth is not dependent on proving anything.

I no longer need to be perfect to be loved. Being human is enough.

Now I choose progress over perfection.

*Names changed to protect identity.

Feature Image: Supplied.