B effort mentality

I have spent the last thirty years sitting across from people who carry an invisible grade book in their heads. They count and compare their worth according to standards that rarely, if ever, come from their own values. These standards are often whispered into existence by parents, teachers, peers, social media feeds, or our own small, anxious selves who learned early how to earn love and safety: by being perfect. As a clinician in private practice with specialized training in eating disorders, anxiety disorders, OCD, and perfectionism, I have watched perfectionism act like a magnifying glass that burns whatever it is focused on. The brighter the intention, the greater the scorch.

If you imagine perfectionism as a mountain, it is easy to see why. From basecamp the mountain promises clarity: reach the summit and the view will resolve everything. You can imagine planting a flag and, at last, proving your worth. The slope, however, is deceptive. The air thins; the footing becomes scree; small errors feel like avalanches. The mountain insists that every step must be measured and placed exactly right. What begins as careful navigation becomes fixation on a single impossible point. Meanwhile, down the slope, a brook that craves only a downward path will babble and weave around rocks, adapting to the terrain without shame. The brook does not rehearse an ideal; it notices obstacles and finds a way through or around them. This chapter invites you to learn from both: honor the mountain’s values and long view, while letting the brook teach you how to move.

This proposal may sound like a mild heresy in a culture that worships A-pluses: we will talk about the B-effort mentality. I call it a “mentality” because it is a way of seeing and orienting to work, relationships, and ourselves that intentionally refuses the all-or-nothing judgment of perfectionism while still honoring competence, care, and growth. It is not laziness. It is not negligence. It is an ethic of balance — a deliberate choice to allocate effort in ways that preserve our capacity to keep going, to be kind to our inner child, and to remain present on the journey rather than collapsing under the weight of an impossible standard.

Why a B? Because B is not failure. B is an honest, sustainable, often wiser allocation of energy than the manic pursuit of A at all costs. B means I did what I could with the resources I had in that moment. B is a stepping stone, not a verdict. B keeps us moving, like the brook that continues its course despite boulders and fallen branches.

Perfectionism is not only a problem for teenagers fretting over transcripts. It is an existential posture that lives in every adult who believes their value is contingent on flawless performance. In my clinical work I often say: perfectionism is not a level of achievement; it is a coping strategy. It does useful things — it protects us from criticism, it secures approval, it makes us feel competent — but like any coping strategy, it has trade-offs. The problem is the cost: chronic anxiety, ritualistic behaviors characteristic of OCD, disordered eating as a misguided attempt to control a body that feels out of order, and a pervasive exhaustion that dulls curiosity and intimacy.

The B-effort mentality reframes these trade-offs in three practical, interrelated commitments I use with clients and that I will teach you: Accept, Allocate, and Attend. Imagine standing on the mountain trail with the brook at the edge of your boot: Accept is looking at the mountain and the weather and saying, “This is what we have today.” Allocate is choosing which sections of the trail will get your heavy pack and careful step and which you can stroll more lightly. Attend is listening to the brook — noticing breath, sensation, thought — so you can respond rather than react. I will unpack each of these and offer practical invitations you can try today.

Accept: The therapeutic acceptance I mean is not resignation. It is a skillful acknowledgment of reality as it is — including emotions, appetites, and the physical limits of your day — without immediately turning it into a moral failure. Acceptance has strong roots in therapies I draw on daily: Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), mindfulness traditions, and dialectical approaches. If you can accept, you reduce the secondary suffering that comes from arguing with your own experience.  Most people try to outrun anxiety with more preparation, more checking, or more self-criticism. Acceptance would invite a different question: what is true right now? What can I do from a place of steadier breath? 

Allocate: This is where the B-effort idea becomes operational. Allocate means deciding, strategically, how much effort a task truly requires, then committing to that level with generosity toward yourself. Not every task deserves maximum energy. Some items on your to-do list legitimately require high focus and extra preparation; others do not. The skill is in discerning.

I often use a simple triage exercise with clients: categorize tasks as A (high stakes, high value), B (important but not game-changing), or C (optional or low impact). Picture the mountain again: some stretches require ropes; others are grassy switchbacks where you can walk with less attention. The magic is that once you allow some items to be Bs, the As receive better, less anxious attention, and your nervous system is less taxed. This avoids the “all eggs in one basket” phenomenon: when we pour disproportionate effort into a single exam, presentation, or meal-plan, we often produce less optimal performance because of exhaustion or hypervigilance. The brook’s lesson here is simple: water allocates itself — it speeds through shallow channels, slows in a pool, and preserves its flow overall.

Attend: This is the practice of presence. Anxiety and perfectionism are future- and outcome-oriented: they keep us rehearsing possible failures. OCD often shows up as a hyper-focused attending to perceived threats (did I lock the door? Is my body wrong?) that escalates into checking or restriction. Mindful attending redirects this energy — not by eliminating worry, but by noticing it without fusing with it. The goal is not to never plan or prepare; it is to be able to prepare without becoming attached to a single imagined outcome.

Attending is like listening to the brook and learning its rhythm. You do not need to silence every ripple; you learn to notice the sound and continue your walk. Presence allows you to learn from experience rather than constantly policing it.

The B-effort mentality is about authenticity.  It is the daily choice to be less seduced by catastrophe thinking and more engaged in steady process. It is especially important for those of you living with eating disorders, OCD, or intense anxiety: these diagnoses make the cost of perfectionism visible — weight fluctuations, ritual time consumption, emotional numbing. We do not cure these conditions by merely lowering standards; we treat them by increasing psychological flexibility, building distress tolerance, and aligning behavior with values rather than fear.

A practical reality check: I am not suggesting that effort be uniformly mediocre. Some people have careers or medical needs where high precision genuinely matters. The goal is discernment, not sloth. B-effort is a strategy, not a banner for mediocrity. When applied skillfully it actually improves outcomes because it reduces the wear-and-tear that perfectionism exacts on cognition, mood, and relationships. Think of the climber who saves ropes and energies for exposed pitches and lets the brook carry away what it can: both choices are intelligent.

Practical invitations you can try today — think of them as small walks along the stream with a map of the mountain in your pocket.

- Micro-B practice: Pick one low-to-moderate importance task today (replying to a non-urgent email, organizing one shelf, preparing a simple dinner). Intentionally give it B effort: do it competently, but set a strict time limit. Notice your internal commentary. Are you criticizing yourself for not doing more? Breathe. Name the thought and return to the task. Record what happens: did the task suffer? Did your energy for other things improve? Imagine the brook’s tempo: steady, sufficient, not frantic.

- The Triage List: On a piece of paper, categorize your tasks as A, B, or C. For one day, commit to this allocation. Be honest and practical. If everything is an A, examine whether your categories are inflated by anxiety. Picture the landscape: where are the summit climbs, where are the pleasant meadows, where are the small streams?

- Presence Checkpoints: Set alarms three times a day to pause for one minute. Observe your breath, notice one sensation, and notice one emotion without trying to change it. This low-burden practice strengthens your capacity to attend — to hear the brook without being swept away by a storm.

- Values reminder: Write down one value you want to enact this week (e.g., presence with my child, honesty in my work, nourishment of my body). When you notice perfectionistic urges, ask: Will this pursuit of perfection help me live that value today? The mountain can represent your values — tall and visible — and the brook can remind you how to move toward them without losing your balance.

Perfectionism tells a delightful fable: that if only we could be flawless, life would finally settle into safety and honor. But life, by its nature, resists flattening into a grade. Imperfection is not a flaw; it is the raw material of creativity, attachment, and wisdom. The B-effort mentality invites you to live inside that paradox: take tasks seriously enough to do them well, but not so seriously that you lose the capacity for play, repair, and presence. Walk the mountain with intention. Listen to the brook as it teaches you how to keep your footing and your flow.

If you are reading this and feeling that familiar tightening — the one that says, “I must get this exactly right” — breathe. You have already taken the first B step: researching who to reach out to… That counts.