You’re not good enough. No matter how much you do, you’ll never do enough. No matter how good you look, you’ll never be pretty enough. No matter how little you eat, you’ll never be skinny enough. No matter how kind you are, not everyone will like you. You’ll never be enough.

These words, or something very similar, have echoed in my head since I was a kid. I don’t know when it started, and I certainly don’t know when these words will fade away forever from my mind and heart.

I was born in Budapest, Hungary. My parents are missionaries, and they raised me to love God from the very beginning. I got saved really young, and church was my life. My parents reminded me many times that I was the example, and that my little sisters looked up to me, so I had to be careful about how I acted. My whole life, I was taught that I had to be good, had to please authorities, and had to do the right thing no matter what. But what was the right thing? And what if it didn’t please the authorities?

For much of my life, I was torn. I was told that something was not right, but to me it seemed perfectly fine. I wasn’t happy. I was confused. I was living my life according to other people’s expectations. I didn’t know what was right or wrong. I felt like a horrible person, even when I was doing “the right thing.” What was wrong with me? So many times I felt alone, even though I had many friends. Nobody could understand me.

Nothing about this lifestyle changed until my senior year, the year I had my first boyfriend. He was studying to be a psychologist and helped me change my thinking. Other than having constant conflicts with my parents, who weren’t too thrilled about my dating somebody, he opened up my eyes to how much people-pleasing had taken over my life. I realized I had so many masks for each person I was around, that I didn’t even know who I was underneath. Long story short, I thought a lot about who I was. I started questioning what I believed and why. I started writing “Perfect,” which has a lot of parallels to my life then.

God was there through it all. I didn’t know how to defeat it, but I took a step. I talked to my parents. I told them about all my bitterness, of trying to live up to standards I didn’t believe in, of all the things I did that I didn’t enjoy doing. I told them how much I wanted to please them, but how I felt like I always fell short. They were extremely surprised, and then supportive. We were able to work through years of hard feelings on my part that they hadn’t even been aware of.

More steps. I used to write and not share it with anyone. I was afraid of what people would say. When I finally decided to open up and show people, I was overwhelmed at the good feedback. Instead of judging me, people could relate! I wasn’t alone in my people pleasing. I take little steps all the time when I do something I’m not comfortable with; giving hard advice, telling someone something they don’t want to hear, going to other people for help, seeking mentors, opening up to people.

Am I completely free? No, not yet. There are times I still come under the icy grip of doubt and fear. What if people stop liking me? What would happen if I disappointed someone I love and they don’t forgive me? But I know that I am a lot farther along than I was years ago. I may never be perfect, (in fact, let’s just admit that’ll never happen), but I can keep taking steps, getting closer to God and farther from my perfectionism. And now I know that I’m not alone.

I may not be perfect, but I believe God can still use me.