How can we replace the pressure to be perfect with the commitment to keep learning?
Early in July, I learned embroidery. Excitedly, I sent photos of my first (and only) finished project to friends and family. Along the way, I learned six new knots. Proudly, I dreamed about growing my skillset by reactivating my Pinterest account, saving articles about the nearly 200 other knots I could learn. I also wandered through craft and thrift stores, spending nearly $50 on supplies, and researching a sewing machine that would allow me to do more, better, faster, and with precision.
Then I didn't embroider for three weeks.
I had the time. I had the desire. In fact, writing this newsletter is what inspired me to pick it up again.
The gap between what I could do and what I imagined doing became so wide that I stopped, as I aspired toward what was not realistic for me now. That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid with this newsletter, and what I see happen often in the work of strengthening the disability community.
When we feel pressure to be perfect, to be experts, or to have the "right" response, we can delay acting. We can freeze. We can spend time imagining bigger, more polished, more resource-intensive approaches than what was originally asked for by someone we care about within the community. Or we wait until we have the ideal skills, tools, or funding before we begin the work. And the waiting turns to days, months, quarters, years, until we find ourselves responding in a way that’s reactive. Once disability impacts our own lives, us.
But waiting until the approach that brings more, better, faster, and with precision doesn't serve me, and it doesn't strengthen our disability community right now, either. In fact, the promise of something coming later will likely just leave the community frustrated.
In trying to do everything perfectly, we can lose sight of what we can do right now with the resources we already have.
So this week's challenge is: How can we replace the pressure to be perfect with the commitment to keep learning?
Honest Story
A school and district in New Hampshire comprises only one deaf student, Ben. Ben’s aide, the only person who initially could communicate with him during school days, shared that Ben initially felt isolated and alone from both his peers and teachers. Soon, Reed, another student, chose to learn a few signs to befriend Ben. From here, the rest of the class learned, followed by other teachers, staff, and grades, with now every person knowing at least some sign language and practicing even when Ben isn’t present.
What can we learn here? Reed adjusted with the resources he had, and Ben responded positively to Reed’s effort. Even without a formal curriculum or a teacher's guidance, Reed chose to adapt, to fumble through signs to learn what he could to make a new friend, and as progress occurred, the school scaled a meaningful response. The scale didn’t happen right away, but effort did. Do we think Reed was comfortable with learning sign language at first? Probably not. Do we think Reed benefited by actively choosing to learn sign language? Certainly, and so did Ben and others.
Rigorous Learning
The drive to succeed can provide purpose, meaning, joy, and well-being. But when success becomes tied to unrealistic standards of perfection, it can undermine mental health and disconnect people from their inherent sense of self-worth.
One powerful antidote to emphasizing perfectionism is instead fostering the feeling of mattering: the fulfillment of being valued by loved ones and communities regardless of external measures of success. Research shows that people who feel they matter experience lower rates of depression and anxiety, along with higher motivation and achievement. The opposite is true, too: those who feel they don't matter often describe feeling invisible, unheard, lonely, and insignificant.
How do we foster mattering? Through warm, engaged interactions that communicate genuine curiosity and unconditional, undivided attention. Take note of how Reed did this through growing a friendship with Ben (Sohn, 2024).
If you are struggling with where and how to start, remember that you can make people feel they matter now, in your work, community, or social spaces. We can all be mindful of how we emphasize letting people know they matter now. Yes, we can wait for a significant event, loss, disaster, or hardship to remind people they matter. However, the research indicates that letting people know they matter without condition is actually where the true connection is.
Work of Art
Fiber artist Judith Scott discovered art in her forties after spending much of her life institutionalized as a deaf woman with Down syndrome. Without formal artistic training, she began wrapping everyday objects in yarn, fabric, string, and thread, transforming ordinary materials into intricate sculptures. While Scott died in 2005, her work continues to be exhibited at institutions including the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York, the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, D.C., and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA).
What stays with me isn't only that Judith became a celebrated artist outside of solely disability-focused artistic spaces. It's that her artistic life began after decades of being underestimated and shortly after she stepped into her community while consistently mattering to her twin sister, Joyce. Throughout her early years, Joyce continued to visit her and advocate for her until Judith was able to leave the institution and move into the community. Not long afterward, Judith discovered fiber art and developed a practice that grew one work at a time, utilizing the materials in front of her rather than waiting until she had the "right" training or credentials.
Growth rarely happens in isolation, and that is unfortunately evidenced through Judith's early years of being isolated and institutionalized for 35 years and the denied opportunities that came from that. Instead, growth often begins when someone believes we matter and allows us the opportunity to explore, experiment, and keep learning. Judith's sculptures weren't built all at once with perfect precision, but with repetition, curiosity, and sustained practice.
Practical Experiment
This week, try one shift in an interaction that communicates to someone that they matter. Not a perfect plan or a complete overhaul. Just one small, intentional change that makes it easier for someone else to participate. Whether disabled or not, or having disclosed they have a disability or not, change does not come without action, and we might feel everything is working just fine, but maybe it isn’t for someone else, and we can influence that change. We simply have no idea if we are conveying to others that they matter unless we are clear in our communication that they do.
It might be adjusting the time or format of a meeting or quality time with someone, asking, "What would make our time together easier for you?" before assuming you know the answer, changing one aspect of a space after listening to someone's experience, or simply replacing an assumption with a question. Even if no actionable changes come from the interaction, you are fostering unconditional curiosity, and through repetition, that matters.
The goal isn't to get it just right, or to overhaul a process or observe all the patterns or data to make a perfectly informed decision. It's to learn with someone, not simply make changes for them. You may find that an adjustment intended for one person benefits many others, just as Reed's decision to learn a few signs created a ripple effect throughout his school.
As I think about learning embroidery, Reed learning sign language to befriend one student at school, and Judith Scott building one sculpture at a time with the materials in front of her, I'm reminded that meaningful change rarely begins with perfection. It begins with curiosity, repetition, and a willingness to start small.
This week, replace the pressure to have the perfect solution with the commitment to learn alongside someone else. One conversation or one question can be enough to let someone know they matter to you.
Reflection
In what ways has someone made you feel you mattered?
Next Week's Challenge
How can we respond to difficult issues when fear makes us want to step away?