No one would call you a perfectionist… yet, some things have to be perfect.

No one would call you a perfectionist. Not your friends. Not your colleagues. Probably not even you.

Your room is a mess. Your wardrobe’s a bit chaotic. You’re not obsessed with getting everything right all the time.

And yet.

There are certain things that really bother you when they’re not done properly. The dishwasher stacked “wrong”. The way something’s folded. That message you keep rewriting. The task you can’t move on from because it doesn’t feel finished enough.

It’s not about impressing anyone. No one else even notices.

But you do.

And when it’s off, your body tightens. You feel restless, irritated, slightly on edge, like you can’t settle until it’s sorted.

This is a kind of perfectionism people don’t usually recognise. It doesn’t look like high achievement or obsessive standards. It hides in small, ordinary moments and quietly creates pressure.

Perfectionism here isn’t about being the best. It’s about relief.

For a lot of people, this kind of perfectionism is a way to reduce uncertainty, avoid criticism (even imagined), prevent regret, and stay ahead of disappointment. Getting it “right” brings a brief drop in tension, a moment where your nervous system can finally exhale.

The problem is that the relief doesn’t last. So you do it again. And again. In tiny ways that add up.

Over time, this doesn’t make life better. It makes life narrower.

You can’t move on until it’s right. You can’t rest until it’s done properly. You can’t fully enjoy things halfway. There’s always a small sense of being held hostage by details that feel bigger than they should.

What looks like fussiness is often a nervous system trying to feel safe.

This isn’t a personality flaw. It’s a strategy. One your body learned when things felt uncertain, unpredictable, or quietly demanding. Control became a way to manage internal pressure, especially when slowing down didn’t feel safe.

That’s why being told to “just relax” or “let it go” rarely helps. Letting it go feels risky when your system has learned that getting it right keeps things contained.

What helps instead isn’t lowering your standards or forcing yourself to care less. It’s noticing where pressure shows up and gently experimenting with loosening it.

That might look like leaving the dishwasher as it is and sitting down anyway. Folding the clothes once. Sending the message without rereading it. Letting something be eighty percent done and noticing what happens in your body.

Not as a challenge. As an experiment.

You’re not trying to prove anything. You’re letting your nervous system learn that nothing bad happens when things aren’t perfect.

This is often how I work with clients. Not by getting rid of perfectionism, but by understanding what it’s protecting and slowly teaching the body that safety doesn’t depend on everything being just right.

Because perfectionism here isn’t about excellence. It’s about pressure.

And when the pressure eases, even a little, life starts to feel wider. More breathable. Less tight around the edges.

If you recognise yourself in this, you’re not broken or overly sensitive. You’ve just been carrying more internal weight than anyone could see.

That’s your inside perspective.