Actual conversation at my house between my wife and grandson ‘E’…
Grandma: Sure, glad Grandpa is perky in the morning
E: Grandpa is not perfect!
Grandma: I said Grandpa was perky, so he could play with you.
E: (with even more emphasis) Grandpa is NOT perfect!
E believes he is defending me, and in a way that he probably doesn't realize he is.
I'm not perfect, and I don't want to be, or at least I don't want to focus on it.
As Anne Lamott said, “Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft.
I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die.
The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.”
I often say I'm a recovering perfectionist.
Perfection is not possible though my grandson is pretty close.
