Participation over Performance
Paint & Sip, Perfectionism, and Learning How to Have Fun Imperfectly
There’s something strangely exposing about being bad at something in front of other people. Or maybe not even bad. Just not good(!!) and I think sometimes that gets harder as an adult.
A few weeks ago, I went to a paint and sip afternoon. The painting we were recreating was called Root Awakening, which loosely translates to finding the authentic self, feeling anchored, and overcoming deep-seated fear. Which, honestly, felt accidentally fitting for this stage of life.
Before we even started, I was sweaty. Nervous. Slightly wound up. However, once the blending started, something shifted. I relaxed a bit, even started laughing and got weirdly overconfident about my blending abilities! Until the details arrived and suddenly, the perfectionism arrived with them.
What if I ruined it? What if I couldn’t fix it? What if it looked ugly?
The interesting thing was that absolutely no one else cared. No one was judging me. I was judging me and I found myself wondering why perfectionism so easily follows me into spaces that are meant to be enjoyable. Why does performance creep into play?
Part of what sat underneath the perfectionism was a quieter question about value.
The class wasn't free. The painting wasn't perfect. And at some point I caught myself wondering whether the experience would somehow count less if the final result wasn't particularly good.
That felt familiar. As though the value of the experience was somehow tied to what I produced from it. But the more I thought about it, the less certain I became. The afternoon was still fun. I was still curious. I was still completely absorbed at times.
None of that disappeared simply because the painting wasn't perfect. The experience was still worth having.
I’ve noticed this pattern before. With pottery. Learning to knit. Even recently with the hiking expedition. Not because they were all playful or enjoyable in the same way but because the expectations I brought into them shaped how I experienced them in real time. It’s less about expecting mastery immediately and more about the expectations I quietly bring into the experience itself.
Somewhere under the surface, there’s often an idea about how I should experience the activity. I should be relaxed. I should feel free. I shouldn't care so much...and if I’m self-conscious, uncertain, or trying too hard, then somehow, I’m “doing fun wrong.”
Maybe that’s not entirely true. Maybe enjoyment and self-consciousness can coexist within an experience. Because the truth is, I did enjoy myself. I laughed multiple times. I got absorbed in colour mixing. I had moments where I forgot myself entirely. I also had moments where my inner critic got loud.
We don’t just carry expectations about outcomes. We carry them about feelings too. For instance, novelty should feel exciting, courage should feel empowering, fun should feel easy and maybe that word “should” is part of the problem. There’s a lot of pressure hidden inside it.
When the experience includes anxiety, awkwardness, imperfection, or self-consciousness, we think something has gone wrong.
Participation matters more than perfection, although I suspect I already knew that intellectually. Living it in real time is something else entirely!
Perhaps it isn’t about getting rid of every uncomfortable thought before we engage in life. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if the goal isn't always the outcome. Sometimes the value is in the experience itself. In being curious. Participating. Paying attention.
Maybe not every experience needs to lead to something impressive or measurable in order to have been worth having.
Maybe that means being willing to step into spaces where I might feel uncertain, self-conscious, imperfect, or inexperienced. Not because those feelings disappear, but because I seem to get more out of life when I participate in it rather than standing on the outskirts of it...and maybe fun doesn’t need to look completely carefree in order to still count as fun. I think that’s part of what this year has been teaching me - not how to become fearless, not how to stop overthinking entirely, not how to perfectly inhabit every moment, but how to participate more fully in my life without waiting to become the ideal version of myself first. And honestly?
That feels far more alive. I don’t think the answer is becoming completely carefree. Honestly, I’m not even sure that’s realistic within my personality and temperament!!
Maybe it's about letting the experience be enough while it's happening.
Reflection Prompts
What expectations do you carry into experiences that are meant to be enjoyable, and how do they shape your experience in the moment?
Where are you noticing self-monitoring, managing, or stepping out of participation instead of staying in the experience?
What might it look like to give yourself permission to be a beginner without needing to perform the experience well?
This reflection shares a personal experience and general observations about human behaviour. It is not intended as psychological advice.
