So, you want to talk about Virgo female “bad traits” huh? Trust me, I get it. For the longest time, I just thought that was me. Like, “Oh, I’m just thorough,” or “I just notice details others miss.” Nah, buddy. That was just my brain trying to put a pretty bow on some stuff that was genuinely making my life, and frankly, the lives of people around me, a bit of a pain in the ass.
I distinctly remember a period a few years back, when everything felt like a massive uphill climb. I was deep into this big project at work, a really complex one where a bunch of us had to collaborate. And I mean, collaborate closely. We had daily check-ins, everyone throwing ideas onto the board, code reviews, all that jazz. I started out feeling pretty good, thinking my eye for detail would be a huge asset. And for a bit, it was. I caught errors, streamlined processes, nudged folks to make things just a little cleaner.
But then it started to twist. I wasn’t just catching errors anymore; I was looking for them. Every single line of code, every proposal, every minor design choice from anyone else, I’d dissect it. Not in a helpful, constructive way, mind you. More like a nit-picking, “this isn’t perfect, why isn’t it perfect?” kind of way. I’d send back emails with lists of tiny tweaks, sometimes just grammatical errors in comments, or argue for hours over a color shade that honestly, nobody else cared about. And don’t even get me started on my own work. I’d sit on a piece of content for days, rewriting sentences over and over, polishing paragraphs until they sounded sterile, terrified of any perceived flaw. I’d miss deadlines because I just couldn’t declare something “finished.” It was never good enough.
People started getting real quiet around me during meetings. My boss would politely suggest I “let go” a bit. Colleagues started bypassing me, going to others for reviews, or just not involving me in early stages of ideation. My inbox, which used to be buzzing with questions and collaboration, suddenly felt a lot emptier. And personally? I was a wreck. Constantly stressed, constantly worried I’d missed something, that I wasn’t perfect enough, that their imperfection would somehow reflect on me. I wasn’t sleeping right. My head was buzzing with all the things that could go wrong, all the ways things weren’t quite right.
One evening, after another tense meeting where I’d meticulously dismantled someone’s perfectly fine suggestion, my friend, bless her blunt heart, pulled me aside. She didn’t mince words. She just looked at me and said, “Look, I love you, but you’re being a real pain. You’re trying to control everything and it’s making everyone miserable. You’re exhausting yourself and burning out the team.” That hit me like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t just “my personality” anymore. It was a problem. A me problem. That was the start of really looking at these “Virgo traits” I thought were badges of honor, and seeing them for the chains they really were.
Acknowledging the Mess and Beginning the Cleanup
The first step, really, was just admitting it. Admitting I was often overly critical, not just of others, but especially of myself. Admitting my perfectionism wasn’t a superpower; it was a roadblock. I grabbed a pen and paper – yeah, old school, I know – and just started jotting down every time I felt that urge to criticize, that knot of anxiety when something wasn’t exactly ‘right’.
- I started with awareness: I literally began catching myself mid-thought. That feeling of wanting to send back a report for a missing comma? I’d physically stop, take a breath, and ask myself, “Does this really impact the outcome? Is it necessary, or just my internal editor going wild?” Most of the time, it was the latter.
- I forced myself to “release” things: This was probably the hardest. For my own work, I started setting timers. I’d work on something, and when that timer went off, I had to send it. No more fiddling. No more “just one more look.” It was terrifying at first. I felt like I was sending out half-baked ideas, but the sky didn’t fall. In fact, most times, the feedback was positive, and nobody even noticed the “flaws” I had obsessed over.
- I practiced active listening (and shutting up): In conversations or team meetings, I’d make a conscious effort to listen to someone’s entire point without immediately formulating a critique in my head. I’d try to find something positive to say first, or ask a clarifying question, instead of jumping straight to “but what about this tiny thing?” It made a huge difference in how people engaged with me.
- I learned to embrace “good enough”: This phrase became my mantra. “Good enough to launch,” “good enough to present,” “good enough to share.” It wasn’t about lowering standards completely, but about recognizing the point of diminishing returns. That last 5% of “perfection” often takes 50% of the effort and yields zero extra benefit, only stress.
- I found my “off” switch: My brain used to just churn and worry constantly. I had to actively train it to stop. Simple stuff, like going for a walk, meditating for five minutes, or even just listening to music with headphones, became essential tools to quiet the internal critic and the constant worry. It was like I was re-calibrating my internal thermostat, pulling it back from boiling point.
It’s not like these traits just vanished overnight. It’s an ongoing process, a continuous check-in. Sometimes the old habits still try to creep back in, especially when I’m tired or stressed. But now, I recognize them. I call them out. I don’t let them take over and drive the bus. I remind myself of that period of misery, of the strained relationships and the constant anxiety. And honestly, it’s just not worth it. My life is so much calmer now, my relationships are stronger, and paradoxically, my work is actually better because I’m not drowning in self-imposed perfectionism. It’s about understanding what makes you tick, and then deciding if that tick is actually helping you or just making you neurotic.
