Estimated reading time: 6 minutes
What These Words Mean
There is a quiet kind of exhaustion that comes from always trying to be flawless. You feel it in your shoulders, in the way your jaw stays tight, in the way you replay every small mistake before you fall asleep. Into that tension, these words arrive like someone gently turning on a small lamp in a dark room.
"The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself."
"The thing that is really hard, and really amazing…"
On the surface, this part is pointing to something that is both difficult and astonishing, something that asks a lot from you but also has the power to surprise and move you. It sets you up to expect a challenge, but not just any challenge — one that can change the way you see your own life. Underneath, it is naming a kind of experience you probably recognize: those turning points that dont look dramatic from the outside, but feel like an earthquake inside. It is preparing you to see that what follows is not simple advice, but a real inner shift that costs you something and yet gives you back even more.
"…is giving up on being perfect…"
Here, you can almost see yourself loosening your grip on an impossible standard. The words describe the act of dropping the constant effort to always do everything right, to never show weakness, to never make a wrong move. It is like putting down a heavy bag you have been carrying for years without realizing how much it weighed. Beneath that picture is the truth that your obsession with getting everything just right is not just tiring; it blocks you from being honest about who you are. Letting go of perfection is not about being careless. It is about accepting that you are limited, that you will say the wrong thing sometimes, that your kitchen will be messy, that your work will occasionally fall short — and choosing to live anyway, without building your worth on spotless performance.
"…and beginning the work of becoming yourself."
This final part shifts you from what you are releasing to what you are choosing instead. It talks about "work," not a moment of inspiration, which suggests effort, patience, and practice. You can picture a long, slow process: you trying things, failing, learning what matters to you, speaking up in ways that feel risky, making decisions that fit you even when other people dont nod approvingly. The heart of it is this: once you stop spending all your energy polishing your image, you can finally use that energy to figure out who you actually are. That might mean admitting what you really want from your relationships, or choosing a career that is meaningful but not impressive to others, or allowing parts of yourself that you were told were "too much" or "not enough" to exist in the open.
Imagine you are at work, and a project goes wrong. Your "perfect" instinct says: stay late, fix everything alone, hide the mistake, and pretend it never happened. These words suggest another path: you own the error, talk honestly with your team, accept that this will not make you look flawless, and use the moment to grow into someone more real, more courageous, and more aligned with your values. That is the work of becoming yourself: imperfect, but deeply alive.
One small sensory detail reveals the difference: perfection feels like cold, bright, unforgiving light — every flaw showing, nothing allowed to be out of place. Becoming yourself feels more like a warm lamp at dusk, where you can finally relax your shoulders and breathe because you are allowed to simply be as you are.
And to be honest, these words do not always fit every situation. Some spaces still punish imperfection harshly, and sometimes you do have to meet a very high standard for real reasons: safety, responsibility, survival. But even there, the spirit of the quote still whispers that your worth is not the same as your record. You can take your obligations seriously without making perfection your whole identity.
The most striking part, to me, is the suggestion that the truly amazing thing is not achieving some flawless life, but having the courage to switch your focus: away from how you look to others, and toward the long, patient work of becoming someone you recognize and actually like.
The Setting Behind the Quote
Anna Quindlen wrote and spoke during a period when ideas about identity, success, and especially perfection were being pulled in opposite directions. Born in 1953 in the United States, she came of age in a culture that told people, particularly women, to be everything at once: successful but humble, ambitious but selfless, attractive but not vain, endlessly capable and somehow still grateful and quiet.
By the late 20th century and into the early 21st, the world around her was changing quickly. Workplaces were becoming more competitive. Social expectations were being questioned. Therapy, self-help, and candid writing about inner struggles became more visible. At the same time, advertising, magazines, and later social media were raising the bar on what a "good life" was supposed to look like: polished, controlled, impressive.
In that tension, these words make deep sense. They push back against the idea that "having it all" and doing it perfectly is the ultimate goal. Instead, they argue that the real challenge — and real miracle — lies in letting go of that performance and turning inward to ask, "Who am I, actually, underneath all this pressure?"
Her background as a journalist and novelist, someone who examined everyday lives with care, helped shape this message. She saw the cost of perfectionism on real people: anxiety, shame, burnout, a constant feeling of never measuring up. So this quote reflects its time by naming a quiet rebellion: choosing authenticity over perfection in a world that often rewards the opposite.
About Anna Quindlen
Anna Quindlen, who was born in 1953, is an American writer known for the way she notices ordinary life and turns it into something honest and thoughtful. She began as a journalist, writing columns for major newspapers, and later became a best-selling novelist and essayist. Her work often circles around family, identity, loss, and what it really means to live a meaningful life, not just a successful one.
She is remembered for her voice: clear, compassionate, and unwilling to pretend that modern life doesnt hurt or confuse people. Instead of offering easy answers, she tends to offer honest questions and small, grounded truths. That is exactly the kind of voice you hear in this quote about giving up perfection and becoming yourself.
Her experiences as a working woman, a mother, and a public figure in an era of rising expectations likely shaped her view. She watched people strive relentlessly to meet every role perfectly and saw the emptiness that could follow even when they "suceeded." So it makes sense that she would emphasize the value of dropping perfectionism in favor of authenticity.
The quote fits her broader worldview: that the quiet, inner work of figuring out who you are matters more than external approval. In her writing, she often encourages you to notice your own life more gently and to measure it less by comparison and more by depth, honesty, and presence.
