“I’ll be first!”
When perfectionism speaks in the voice of fear, not from the podium.
Why Children with PDA Choose Perfection as a Form of Control — and How to Support Them
me
You know, everyone makes mistakes. That's how we learn.
me
(I show her my box of failed projects.) Look, this didn't work. And this didn't work. And that didn't work either. And this? This one worked on the fifth try. More things failed than succeeded for me. That's normal. At first, almost nothing works right away. That's how it is for everyone.
daughter
I'll be first. Mine will work the first time.
That stopped me. I started wondering where that response came from. Where did that certainty come from? Could it be connected to the fact that she refuses 90% of instructions, requests, or suggestions in daily life, regardless of the form, tone, or delivery method? I’ve tested most possibilities.
It wasn’t pride. It wasn’t the need to be the best — we’ve already worked through that.
It was the need for safety.
If she does something perfectly, no one will criticize, shame, or hurt her.
Yet no one around her does that. Not at home and not in her activities. So what is she facing?
Ah, maybe…
Perfection equals control. If I can’t control whether I have to do something, then at least I can try to control how well I do it.
Perfection is a shield against fear.
It is a path toward predictability and, therefore, safety.
It is a way of creating inner calm.
Masking: “I’ll be competent, polite, and perfect so that no one sees that I’m afraid.”
Sometimes, however, it is also an echo of shame and uncertainty, the belief that I am only good if I do everything flawlessly.
Okay, now that I know, what can I do?
Simply saying “mistakes are okay” is ineffective.
I can name it
“I know your brain wants control. Perfection is how you try to feel safe. That makes sense.”
Naming it may reduce shame. It shows: “Your reactions are logical. You are not alone in this.”
(Logic is the premium currency.)
I can redefine “mistakes”
Instead of: “Everyone makes mistakes.” Try: “Mistakes help us find our own way of doing things.”
Regarding the need for autonomy, redefine a mistake as not failure, but a clue leading toward something personal, toward one’s own path.
(A compass only works if you’re the one holding it.)
I can model imperfection
I can’t pretend that I always know. I can show my own box of failures. I will not tell that story with shame, but with curiosity. Then maybe my daughter will see that imperfection doesn’t diminish value.
(A box of failures is a treasury of courage.)
So, for today, I’ll leave it at that. Without a perfect solution. But with direction.
I repeat, quietly but firmly:
Find your own way.
Make mistakes.
The best lessons come from them.
Don’t rush — you’re learning how to live life your own way.
The lesson I took from this short conversation is that…
Resistance to external demands does not always mean open refusal. Sometimes it takes a subtler form, such as perfectionistic action, but only when the child has full control and is guaranteed to do something perfectly. If that certainty is missing, they may not begin at all.
Perfectionism becomes a form of control — a way of preserving agency in situations that feel imposed.