Perfectionism: The Weight We Carry—And the Weight We Pass Down (Part 2)

For Families Like Mine, Success Wasn’t a Guarantee

It took careful planning, hard work, and sometimes a fight. Degrees weren’t just milestones—they were lifelines. A chance at stability. A way out of struggle.

I grew up knowing exactly what it took to get here: watching my parents’ stay up late nights to further their education, work long shifts, and make endless sacrifices to make sure we didn’t go without too much. They didn’t sit me down and say, “Don’t mess this up.” They didn’t have to. It was baked into the stories about what our families had overcome and the weight of what was at stake.

And now, as a mom, I see it in my own kids. There's a pressure to do well, to stay on track, to live up to expectations that we never even said out loud. It’s like a quiet little voice saying: “Don’t let everything your family built FOR YOU (that part!)... slip away.”

This is what perfectionism looks like in families like ours and no one really talks about it. 

Why Perfectionism Hits Families Breaking Cycles So Hard

There’s a misconception that perfectionism is about vanity—about wanting praise, awards, or bragging rights. But for first-gen college grads stepping into rooms no one in their family has been in before, or maybe second-gen trailblazers working to turn that first-time success into something sustainable, perfectionism is purely about protection. It’s the way to hold on tight to what we’ve fought for, to make sure nobody looks at our kids—or us—and questions whether we belong or whether we deserve. It might seem like a stretch but it's the way some of us can sleep well at night.

That kind of pressure? It sticks to you. It doesn’t just push—it clings.

It makes stability feel fragile, like one wrong move could send everything crumbling. It turns doing well into not messing up. And it starts shaping how we—and our kids—move through the world.

You might notice it in small ways at first. A kid who double-checks their work a little too much. Who seems extra hard on themselves over things that don’t seem like a big deal or things they can't control. Who struggles to let things go, even when you reassure them it’s fine.

At first glance, it just looks like a strong work ethic, a little extra effort. But underneath? It’s something deeper.

It’s a pattern of survival that’s hard to break.

And here’s how it sneaks in without you noticing:

• Playing it too safe. They won’t take on anything where success isn’t guaranteed—not because they lack ambition, but because failing, even once, feels like letting their parents down. "If I mess this up, they’ll think I don’t take things seriously—or worse, that I’m lazy."

• Turning small mistakes into proof they never should have tried. They don’t just acknowledge an error—they spiral, convinced it proves they never should have made the team, taken the class, or signed up in the first place. "I knew I wasn’t good enough for this."

• Pushing themselves too hard. They don’t just work hard because they’re driven. They overwork, overthink, and overachieve—not because they love what they’re doing, but because quitting isn’t an option. They started it, so now they have to succeed. "If I don’t pull this off, I never should have started in the first place."

• Measuring success by how much they struggle. If something feels too easy, they assume they must’ve done it wrong. If something feels too hard, they assume they’re not good enough to do it. "If I was really smart, then why would this take me so long. I should have been done already."

• Avoiding anything they can’t already do well. If they don’t immediately excel, they’d rather not even try than risk struggling with an audience. "I don’t do things I already know I’m bad at. I’m not about to embarrass myself."

So, you can see this isn’t just about wanting to do well. It ventures into fearing what happens if they don’t—because in their minds, failure is a setback AND proof they never should have tried.

But here’s what we have to face: this pressure doesn’t just come from school or society. A lot of it starts at home—innocently woven into the stories we tell, the lessons we pass down, and the expectations we don’t even realize we’re setting.

Because for many of us, success has never been just personal—it’s representational.

Next up, I’m sharing my own story—the quiet pressure of representation, what it meant to be one of the only in different rooms, and how that shaped the way I saw myself. If you’ve ever felt like you had to carry more than just your own weight, you won’t want to miss this.

Because this next part? It’s personal.