Let It Flow

How Watercolors Softened My Grip on Perfectionism in Midlife

“There is freedom within…” — Crowded House

If you had told me a few years ago that water, of all things, would be the thing to loosen my decades-long grip on perfectionism, I would have laughed. But here we are. And somehow, the messy beauty of watercolors has changed the way I see midlife—and myself.

I've always been somewhat of a creative person. Even as a kid, whether it was coloring or writing little one-woman show scripts to perform, I was happiest when I was creating (and/or performing). I wasn’t the best, but I enjoyed it. Art projects were my jam... until I started comparing my work to others. Or worse, the teacher did it for me.

I still vividly remember a project in 4th grade. I loved my idea and began to execute it—until the teacher took it over. She “perfected” it. The final result looked polished, but what I internalized was that what I had done wasn’t good enough. And that’s when it started—my quiet, relentless quest for creative perfection. If it couldn’t be perfect, then it wasn’t worth doing.

So I funneled that creativity into areas less likely to be judged: decorating my room, repurposing found items, scrapbooking. Things that were labeled “crafty” rather than “artistic.” But still, I always carried that wish: I wish I could paint, or draw, or create what was in my head in a way that made sense to other people—and looked, well, perfect.

Enter midlife and an empty nest. Suddenly, I had time — more time than I knew what to do with, and more emotional space to explore things that were just for me. I started following an artist on Instagram who made watercolor look easy... and fun. I ordered a beginner’s kit with high hopes. Then promptly let it sit, unopened, for months.

Until one day, I just said, “Enough. Let’s see what this is about.”

The first page of the practice book asked me to create a color swatch — just blobs of each paint in the palette. Easy, right? Not for a perfectionist. I wanted perfect, even circles. I focused so much on how it looked that I completely missed the joy of what was actually happening. But as I kept going, something softened. I noticed the way water created unexpected shades. The way colors danced together when they touched. The way “mistakes” sometimes turned out to be the most beautiful part.

It wasn’t what I envisioned. It didn’t look like the example. But I kept going because it was just for me. No one had to see it. I was allowed to be a beginner. And while it didn’t cure my perfectionism, something began to loosen.

And that’s the thing: watercolor is unpredictable. You can guide it, but you can’t control it. And slowly, I started to see how that mirrored everything else I was wrestling with in midlife.

I think midlife is a time when you either start to get softer or harder. You either lean into self-forgiveness and grace, or into cynicism and tight control. Watercolor gave me a quiet, judgment-free space to explore. It reminded me that in art, just like in life, perfection is subjective. Every brushstroke is a chance to try again, not to get it "right," but to keep showing up.

Painting became an exercise in forgiveness:

• Forgive the water for being wet.

• Forgive the paint for flowing where it wants to.

• Forgive my hand for pressing too hard or too light.

• Forgive myself for not getting it “right.”

What I used to see as a mistake became part of the art. And what started on the page started to bleed into life.

I began to realize how tightly I’d been holding everyone’s emotions — trying to keep everyone “happy,” trying to guide everything just so, like I was holding the brush too tightly. And the more I released control on the page, the more I began releasing it in life.

Now, I see myself less as the manager of everyone’s well-being and more as a gentle guide and encourager as I parent adult children and care for aging parents. And the truth is, life flows better that way (for everyone involved).

Perfectionism is a hard habit to break. But it begins with permission.
Permission to try.
Permission to fail.
Permission to be really bad at something.

We don’t always need practice to make perfect. Sometimes, it just needs to make a little peace.

If you’re stuck in a rut, or in the thick of trying to control what can’t be controlled, I invite you to try something, anything, that lets go of structure and control, even just a little. Maybe it’s watercolors. Maybe it’s singing in the car, or getting back on your bike. Maybe it’s coloring outside the lines on purpose.

Start small. Give yourself a break. Reconnect with whatever lit you up as a kid and see what it stirs in you now.

For me, these creative breaks have opened up a new perspective and has reminded me that the possibilities in midlife are endless. I can try new things, say yes to unexpected opportunities, even start a blog (wink). And the best part? It’s not about who reads it or likes it. It’s about doing it anyway.

Because when we show up for ourselves, unapologetically and imperfectly, we become the fullest version of who we were meant to be.

There is freedom within.

And that, to me, is the best kind of masterpiece.

Know someone else who’s trying to color inside the lines of midlife? Share this with them — maybe it’s time we all let the water run a little wild.

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What’s brought you a little freedom within lately? I’d love to know.