I was always the girl who had it together. The one who got good grades, never missed a deadline, smiled through stress, and said yes to everything. I made it look easy, because I thought I had to. Being “good at everything” wasn’t just something I did, it became who I was.

And for a while, it worked. Teachers loved me. Bosses praised me. People relied on me. I was productive, reliable, ambitious… everything you’re supposed to be. But underneath it all, I was burnt out, emotionally flatlined, and completely disconnected from myself.

When your identity is wrapped up in being capable, there’s no space to admit you’re struggling. No room to mess up. No permission to just… exist. Every achievement felt like a ticking clock to the next one. Every compliment added pressure to keep it up. I wasn’t chasing dreams. I was just trying not to let anyone down – mostly myself, but this took me years to realise and I’m still figuring that one out now.

Then came the crash. Not a dramatic one, just a slow unraveling. I couldn’t keep the performance up. I started saying no. I stopped overcommitting. I let myself drop the ball, and guess what? The world didn’t end. That’s when something weird happened: I realised I didn’t actually know who I was underneath all the “goodness” – the hard work, commitment, determination, toxic productivity, perfectionism. It was my whole identity for so long.

The scariest part of letting go wasn’t losing the praise or the productivity. It was sitting with the question: If I’m not good at everything, who am I?

What I’ve learned since then is that being “good” isn’t the same as being well. It’s not the same as being whole. You don’t have to excel at everything to be enough. You don’t have to perform your value.

The people who matter won’t love you less because you rest. They won’t disappear if you’re slower, softer, more human. You’re not going to be remembered as the girl who worked more than she slept. You’ll be remembered by your smile, your laugh, your little quirks, your vulnerability. And if they do see you as that perfectionist? They were only clapping for the version of you they could benefit from, not the real you.

There’s nothing glamorous about letting go of perfectionism. It’s uncomfortable. It’s messy. You lose some things — validation, certainty, the illusion of control. But you gain so much more: actual peace. Real rest. Room to feel without explaining yourself. Space to grow without performing.

Now, I try to remind myself often: I am allowed to get things wrong. I am allowed to change my mind. I am allowed to be soft, quiet, confused, imperfect — and still worthy.

These days, I’m okay with being average at some things. I forget stuff. I ask for help. I make mistakes. I rest without “earning” it. I no longer need to be everything for everyone, including myself, and weirdly, that’s made me feel more myself than ever.

You don’t owe anyone excellence. You don’t exist to be palatable. You don’t need to impress people to keep them.

And maybe you’ve felt this too, the weight of being “the capable one,” the one who keeps it together. If you’re in that place now, just know: you don’t have to earn your rest. You don’t have to prove your softness is still strength. And you are still you, even when you stop trying so hard.

Letting go of perfection doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you free. Being good at everything might have felt safe. But being real? That’s where the peace is.