Perfectionism and Enneagram Types

One thing reading this book about enneagram types has helped me with the most is understanding not myself so much as other people. In brief, it breaks people down into nine different personality types, which you self-identify, and for each type the book describes the healthy, average, and unhealthy versions of the type; the particular sin that type is prone to; how that type tends to be in childhood, work, and relationships; general characteristics of that type; and what spiritual growth of that type looks like, with a healing message for each. In general, enneagrams help most with understanding people’s motivations: two people may have the same behavior or outlook, but from very different motivations, and it’s helpful for me to see that what drives me may be completely different from what motivates, and thus will help heal or change, someone else.

For example, Ellie and I are both perfectionists, but our different enneagram types has helped me understand how differently it works for her (a type 1, the perfectionist) than for me (a type 3, the performer). On the surface, we’re similar: we both care a lot about excellence, about completing a task well and meeting high standards. In a way, this makes it easy for us to get along: she does great at school, just like I did; we enjoy painting or playing the piano or writing a book report or building a tent just right.

But as soon as something isn’t done perfectly right, we run into problems. My typical approach is to say, suck it up and try again! Focus on the task and get it right! When someone talks to me like that, it makes me more determined than ever to show them I can do it well. But when I talk to Ellie like that, she becomes completely paralyzed; she shuts down and starts crying and is unable to proceed.

What I’ve found is that we are perfectionists for very different reasons, with almost opposite effects. I’m driven by performance: I’m a perfectionist because I want to perform well in front of others; I want to look good, to achieve a lot, and I have an inherently strong sense of self and high self-confidence. External observation energizes me. If I make a mistake, I’m more liable to shrug and move on to something else I can do well, or just figure out a way to get over it; my focus is always on the task, the performance, rather than the relationship. As a result, I don’t really feel I want to understand others or bother with people who get in the way of performing the task well.

Ellie, on the other hand, is a perfectionist because she is driven by a high inner standard. She wants to do something perfectly because she genuinely wants to, not because she cares about performing for others. She is less motivated to do something if others are watching. And because this comes more internally, she has a constant inner critic in her head, a voice telling her that she is not doing it well enough, not measuring up: she is inherently more prone to insecurity than self-confidence. If she makes a mistake, she is more liable to beat herself up in her head about it, to let it affect her sense of self. Her focus is often more on relationships than the task itself: how the mistake is affecting her relationship with others and view of self. As a result, though, she is more naturally empathetic with others, more interested in understanding others.

Completely different! When I make a mistake, what I need to hear is: the perfect performance is not always the most important thing. It’s good to learn and move on in doing the task well, but don’t forget to see how this is affecting others and things that are more important than the outward image. Remember that God sees you for who you truly are, not just the image you project, and loves you.

Naturally, when Ellie makes a mistake or is crying because her brothers messed up her tent, my tendency is to respond with what I need to hear: to tell her, it’s okay if it’s not perfect. But I think the message she needs to hear is: you’ll make mistakes, and that’s okay, and God and I still love you. Because her sense of perfectionism is coming from a more internal place, the point is not to tear down this inner standard she will probably have anyway, but to separate that from a sense of shame or insecurity: to restore relational security and love, to consistently remind her that she is not defined by her mistakes, that mistakes happen and she is always loved regardless.

So when we’re playing piano and she forgets a note, or when we’re painting and she accidentally does a whole section in the wrong color: we both care, and we’re both frustrated. But now the first things I say are: it’s okay that you made a mistake. I still love you. I might expand on that or vary it by saying things like, I forget notes all the time too, or look, now we can mix in a new color that looks even better, or I love that you try so hard, or I love how you are always brave enough to practice very day, etc. And I see her face light up, instead of crumpling up into tears, and she seems energized to keep going, and then I can start talking about the actual task.

As a type 3, it feels sort of laborious and foreign, and sometimes when I’m tired I think why does she have to be so darn sensitive and emotional? or gee whiz, just move on and try again! but I know those things won’t motivate her, and don’t reflect a true understanding of who she is and how God has created her. And I see more and more that she has wonderful traits—empathy, kindness, integrity, true discipline—that come much more naturally to her than to me.