Can I Just Have Fun Even If I'm Not Good?

My friend calls herself a “recovering perfectionist” and I suppose I thought I fit somewhere in that bucket as well… until I found myself immersed in a family of tennis enthusiasts this summer. During my first game on the court I realized, I don’t think I’ve “recovered” at all, and all of those deep-seated perfectionist qualities and bossy voice in my head came rearing to the surface.

Here’s an except from this story:

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Then it’s my turn to serve. Throw the ball as many times as you need, says my partner. Never feel rushed. Take a breath. Relax. 

For every 5 times I threw the ball up in preparation for the serve, I hit it maybe once. When they landed in the required box they were strong serves. But I couldn’t do it consistently, or even often. 

I tried to take a breath, to quiet my mind, to relax my body. But the voice in my head was loud and sassy as ever. I’m bad. I look awkward. Everybody is bored. Or worse, they’re just being polite. They’re annoyed. They’re waiting. I’m wasting everybody’s time. Wait I have to serve this entire round, what a ridiculous rule. Can this just be done already?

And as the game continued to play, it became more and more obvious what this feeling inside of me was exposing. I am such a perfectionist.

And can I just have fun, even if I’m not good. 

My partner laughed at me, oh Selena, this is your first game and you’re trying to be perfect?

That was his word! I hadn’t even uttered my realization aloud. I didn’t use that word! 

Perfect. 

“Are you having fun?” Asked one of my fellow players.

In general, yes. The mood was light and supportive, they were right that the other woman was a newer player and I didn’t feel like totally the weak link, and there were a lot of laughs. It didn’t feel too serious. but I did feel self conscious. I’m not good. I’m not consistent. When I hit the ball is it just good luck and every other time that I miss or I over shoot or it goes too high is the actual truth of my skill?

I must look ridiculous, as the technique that my partner was trying to show me wasn’t yet feeling normal in my body and I kept hitting the ball with my racket in too close. I was standing up straight, or kicking up my back foot like what we imagined kissing a boy would be like. 

I had flashbacks of my childhood skiing, and my dad would “but Selena, you’re athletic, why aren’t you in an athletic stance?” And I would bend my knees more and feel more like an off-balance-idiot. 

All day I carried a little weight on my shoulders as I reflected. I thought about all the areas in my life that I had held myself back, played small or not played at all, entrapped by this fear of not feeling the best or the most qualified.

And what we know about perfection is it is a constantly moving target. It’s impossible. 

Brené Brown even wrote a book about the Gifts of Imperfection.

And yet putting those “gifts” of imperfection into practice as a perfectionist is almost debilitating. You feel exposed all the time. 

I don’t want to be perfect. I want to play tennis. 

So similar to my friend, who between tears streaming down her face on a surfboard floating along the shore break of a beautiful sunny beach in Nicaragua, with likely a young, hot surf instructor, asking if she can just have FUN without being good at something, I now ask myself… can I just keep trying. Keep practicing. Keep growing. Keep learning. And be okay with me not being perfect. Can I embrace a beginners mindset and take the next best step forward.