Why “good enough” is the new great—Buddhist wisdom for recovering perfectionists

Fifteen years ago, I was stacking boxes on the night shift of a Melbourne warehouse, still convinced that life would finally start when I perfected it—when my bank balance, body‑mass index, résumé, and relationships all hit 100 percent.

One night, as a pallet wobbled alarmingly above my head, it dawned on me: even the forklift driver’s most precise maneuver couldn’t make every box align. And yet the shipment still left on time, customers still got their orders, the world kept spinning. “Good enough” had quietly done the job.

That moment, more than any sutra or psychology paper, planted the seed of today’s article.

Perfectionism’s hidden toll

Perfectionism sounds noble, but research paints a different picture. A 2023 meta‑analysis found that perfectionistic concerns—the fear of making mistakes or falling short—show medium‑to‑large links with anxiety, obsessive‑compulsive symptoms, and depression.

In other words, chasing flawless outcomes doesn’t just steal time; it steals peace of mind.

I’ve watched talented friends burn out, abandon projects, or self‑sabotage promising relationships because “almost perfect” felt like failure.

Buddhism’s middle way: The antidote

Early in the Buddha’s teaching career he described the Middle Way (majjhima paṭipadā)—a path that avoids the twin extremes of indulgence and harsh self‑mortification.

For recovering perfectionists, the Middle Way reframes good enough as intentional balance rather than lazy compromise. It challenges us to meet life with appropriate effort, not obsessive effort, trusting that wisdom grows in the space we free up when we stop polishing already‑shiny apples.

“Just as a lute string too tight snaps and one too loose falters, the well‑tuned string sings.”
—Paraphrase of the Buddha’s simile to the monk Sona

Ask yourself: Where is my “string” today—snapping from tension or so slack I’ve given up? Adjusting that tension, not eliminating it, is the practical essence of good‑enough living.

Impermanence (anicca): Nothing stays perfect for long

Perfection assumes permanence. Yet the Buddha put impermanence (anicca) at the center of reality: every thought, feeling, and physical form is in ceaseless flux.

Your flawlessly formatted report will be outdated by next quarter; your spotless kitchen will host crumbs tomorrow; even the masterpiece novel goes through second editions. Seeing impermanence clearly loosens the grip of perfectionism.

If all things morph, what sense is there in worshipping a frozen ideal? Good enough aligns with reality’s dynamic rhythm, allowing us to iterate and improve instead of clinging.

Non‑self (anatta): You are not your performance

A subtler trap fuels perfectionism: the belief that our worth is indistinguishable from our outputs. Buddhism dismantles that illusion with anatta, the teaching that no permanent, independent “self” can be found inside the five ever‑changing aggregates of body and mind.

If there is no fixed “perfect me” to defend, then mistakes stop sounding like verdicts on our identity. They become information—feedback that guides the next attempt.

Ironically, owning our fallibility without ego often results in better work, because we’re free to experiment rather than protect a fragile self‑image.

From theory to practice: Five mindful experiments

Below are the exercises I practice myself when the itch for 100 percent resurfaces:

1. The 80‑percent rule
   Deliberately finish tasks when they feel 80 percent complete. Send the email draft, plate the family dinner, or publish the blog post with one header less than perfect. Track what actually happens—spoiler: usually nothing catastrophic.

2. Three‑breath reset
   Each time you catch micro‑tension (jaw clench, tight shoulders) pause for three mindful inhales and exhales. Label the thought—“striving for flawless”—and return to the task with softer effort. This tiny ritual embodies the Middle Way hundreds of times a day.

3. Metta for the imperfect self
   Spend five minutes offering loving‑kindness phrases to the you who just messed up: “May I be kind to myself…may I learn from this…may I trust the process.” Self‑compassion, shown in dozens of studies to buffer stress, becomes a moment‑to‑moment vaccine against perfectionistic shame.

4. Process journaling
   Each evening record not what you achieved, but what you noticed: obstacles, insights, small joys. Over time the journal shifts attention from flawless outcomes to mindful engagement.

5. Hobby in the shallow end
   Beginners can’t be perfect—and that’s liberating. Take up a language, instrument, or sport where you expect to be clumsy. The lab of low‑stakes failure reconditions the nervous system to treat “not yet” as normal.

How “good enough” supercharges success

Contrary to fears, embracing good enough often boosts creativity and productivity:

• Iterative progress beats stalled polish. The novelist who drafts pages daily—typos and all—finishes a manuscript. The perfectionist tinkers with three immaculate paragraphs.

• Psychological bandwidth returns. Worrying less about microscopic errors frees cognitive resources for big‑picture insight and empathy.

• Relationships deepen. People feel safe around those who allow themselves and others to be flawed. Vulnerability invites authenticity.

I’ve seen this in my own life. When I stopped obsessing over getting every detail right—whether it was planning a trip, organizing the apartment, or trying to say the exact perfect thing in conversations—something shifted. Things got done faster, the pressure lifted, and there was more room for joy, spontaneity, and genuine connection.

Good enough didn’t mean I stopped caring. It meant I finally started living.

Common objections—and buddhist replies

1. “Isn’t ‘good enough’ just an excuse for mediocrity?”
   The Buddha never preached apathy; right effort is part of the Noble Eightfold Path. The question is appropriate effort: energy calibrated to circumstances, guided by wisdom, and sustainable over the long haul.

2. “What about workplaces that demand perfection?”
   Many industries prize precision—surgery, aviation, engineering. Yet even there, protocols accept tolerances and margins of error. The human element (checklists, peer review) acknowledges that 100 percent certainty is a myth. Bringing mindful realism to the desk often reduces mistakes compared with frantic overdrive.

3. “Won’t I lose my competitive edge?”
   Edge dulls faster under constant friction. Good‑enough practitioners invest the saved mental energy in learning, adapting, and innovating—traits the marketplace rewards far more consistently than brittle flawlessness.

Integrating Buddhist wisdom into modern life

Morning intention (1 minute). Before opening email, recite: “Today I’ll walk the Middle Way—neither coasting nor clinging.”

Work sprint (25 minutes). Single‑task with a timer. When the bell rings, release the project at its current state or note the next step. Trust impermanence: you can revisit tomorrow.

Evening reflection (5 minutes). Ask three questions:

1. Where did I over‑tighten the string?

2. Where did I under‑play?

3. What felt harmoniously “good enough”?

Jot one sentence for each, sleep, repeat. Small daily calibrations compound into radical mindset shifts.

A personal note to fellow recovering perfectionists

If you’re reading this with a sceptical eyebrow—“Fine for monks, but my life is more complicated”—remember I’m writing as a business owner, husband, Dad, and former perfectionist who still lapses into tight‑shouldered spirals.

Buddhism doesn’t erase ambition; it humanizes it. Since I stopped chasing perfection and started valuing presence, my days have felt lighter, my relationships deeper, and my decisions less frantic.

Most importantly, it finally feels like life isn’t perpetually on hold—like I don’t have to earn the right to breathe fully or enjoy the moment.

Closing reflection

Imagine holding a clay pot. Strive to shape it well, but know hairline cracks will appear as it dries. If you freeze, terrified of blemishes, the clay hardens unformed. If you shape, trust, and fire it, the pot may leak a drop—but it will carry water, cook soup, maybe even inspire art. Good enough is that fired pot: functional, beautiful in its irregularities, and available now instead of someday.

Perfection whispers, “One day I’ll let you live.” Buddhism replies, “You’re alive this very breath—meet reality as it is, and that is already great.” The Buddha’s Middle Way isn’t a downgrade from excellence; it’s the only reliable road to excellence because it honours the laws of change, the fluid nature of self, and the limited time we get to play this marvelous game.

So the next time you feel the old itch to delete a draft, postpone an idea, or delay a difficult conversation until conditions are flawless, remember: good enough is the new great. Put it out into the world, learn, adjust, and keep walking. The path itself is where the real perfection was hiding all along.