This was a re-read. A lot of the books I've been reading led me back to it -- and one in particular (Donald Kalsched's first book) quoted it directly, so I decided it was time to circle back around on Marion Woodman's study of perfectionism and dealing with it.
This book first came out in 1982 and maybe it's good to keep that in mind. She addressed eating disorders with many of her analysands, and there has been so much work done in helping people with these problems in the past forty years. Being ignorant of a lot of that body of work, I can't speak to where Woodman's ideas fit today. There is also a 1982 take on gender binaries that has stood revision in recent years -- though Woodman is first to say that things are not so rigidly set, making her a forerunner who anticipated those revisions (Susan Rowland's work has been particularly helpful toward that end). But Woodman's work is so literary and her way of framing concepts speaks mythopoetically in a compelling style. I have long admired her, but I'm not sure if this book would be great for someone just coming to Jungian psychology -- the first time I read it, a lot of the depth was too deep for me, and this time I feel a bit more able to understand.
For Woodman, perfectionism is brought on by complexes that massively constrict and endanger the lives of women striving for it: "For the person who is living by ideals, the essential problem in relationships usually involves the difference between love and power. ... She is starving. She has to perform perfectly in order to be loved. Her emotional stability is determined by another's reaction. On one hand she is being manipulated, on the other she is a manipulator because she has to be in order to be loved. She cannot depend on a love which accepts her for who she is. Whether the original manipulators are still in her life doesn't matter; they are alive in her psyche as complexes and if she isn't projecting them onto her 'loved ones,' she is turning them against herself" (62). This reminds me a lot of Kalsched's self-care system, where the psyche's protective aspect goes negative and destructive to a person's ability to live.
Canadian wonder woman Margaret Atwood said something once about how she had to give up perfectionism in order to be able to write novels and stories; if she stayed stuck overworking all the same sentences over and over again, no story would ever be finished. Woodman, also a Canadian wonder woman, put it succinctly: "perfection belongs to the gods; completeness or wholeness is the most a human being can hope for" (51). There is so much to appreciate about completion, about becoming whole or working toward it. One thing I've heard from other depth psychologists is that in order for something to be whole, it must have some aspect of brokenness in it. Without any brokenness, the experience of brokenness is not present, leaving it un-whole. Perfectionism fails to incorporate brokenness. Maybe that's what's so lifeless about it. Whether we're going to hatch that egg or eat it, the shell has to be broken.
One of the most resonant revelations in the book comes from one of Woodman's analysands, who experienced a profound shift in her attitudes toward her own sexuality. The way this unnamed woman put it, "In real loving you feel the blood, the bones, the beating heart. Once you've had it, you don't want anything less. To accept less is to betray yourself" (185). Anyone blessed with having experienced this with someone else will take solace in the way it affirms the sacredness of that rarest of relationships. It can't be faked or forced. And if it's fled, nothing is better than anything less. Woodman says not to freak out about a natural cessation of sexual activity. She says it's a phase and the fuller relationship will come.
One of her main points in writing the book has to do with getting readers to ponder, explore, embrace what is suppressed inside us: "Each one of us has to find the particular feminine archetype that makes our life meaningful" (129). That openness to discover for oneself the individual way of being ourselves in the great big story of humankind is so very Jungian. And something I personally respond to greatly. I'm curious about seeking out which goddess in the realm of myth and iconography most speaks to me about where I'm coming from or where I'm going or where I am right this instant. And about where this sort of discovery lies for characters in the fiction I'm writing. It was certainly the right time to re-read Woodman.