“In scrubbing and cleansing your profound mirror, are you able to rid it of all imperfections?” – Daodejing 10

For much of my life, I was obsessed with absolute perfection. Then my father imparted a piece of advice onto me that I have never forgotten: “Perfection is the enemy of ‘good enough.’”

I would still call myself a perfectionist today, but the lengths to which I will go in order to make something perfect are much less than they once were. 

This is not to say that nothing deserves the attention a perfectionist would give. In my role as editor-in-chief of a newspaper, it is absolutely necessary for me to maintain as perfect a record of accuracy as possible. Mistakes still happen, but a thorough eye makes them scarce – this is why any good newspaper runs all stories through multiple pairs of eyes before publication. 

In my role as a pharmacy intern at a hospital, it is absolutely necessary for me to always select the right medication, pull up the right dose, and deliver to the right place. Mistakes still happen, but this is why we have pharmacists who check and double-check each order so mistakes do not make it through to the patient. 

The above examples are scenarios where perfection is non-negotiable, but is perfection always so non-negotiable? The perfect vacation, the perfect date, the perfect performance – all are nearly impossible. 

An eye for nothing but perfection takes a toll over time. The world you wish to see never materializes, and with the exception of a few scenarios entirely under one’s total control, every situation fails to meet expectations. 

And after enough time, you become one of those expectations. 

The more ingrained into one’s worldview this need is, the more it begins to adhere to one’s own identity as a measure of worth. I have played the piano since I was five years old and performed many times in my life. One wrong note would often ruin a performance for me – in my own eyes. My parents, of course, thought differently, and they encouraged me to afford myself the accolades a still-great performance deserved. 

This is a perennial struggle of mine, and it likely will be for the rest of my life. That said, I have been able to improve on this with much effort. It is uncomfortable at times, but often the best remedy for these sorts of problems is to break your own rules. In this case, make things perfectly imperfect. 

Again, this strategy does not lend well to situations of life and death. But for making memories and generally conducting yourself in the world, it may do wonders for one’s peace of mind and sense of self-worth. 

Forcing yourself to make things perfectly imperfect will reveal the beauty of the perfectly imperfect. It takes time and repetition – sometimes a lot of it – but it is possible. Allow me to share a few examples from my own life. 

For my entire life, I have had a spot on one of my front teeth much whiter than the rest of my teeth. This discoloration is very obvious and can be seen in any picture in which I am smiling. For a while, as a teenager, I tried whitening strips to make it less obvious, and my girlfriend at the time constantly called attention to it and made her opinion on it known. It was a source of shame. 

But as I grew older, it turned from a source of shame into a source of pride. After I became my own person again, I began to see this discoloration as something unique, something identifiable as “me.” When my wife and I had our engagement pictures taken, I asked our photographer not to edit that spot out, which my wife was very happy with. 

Besides, what an odd thing to be ashamed of. In a world so obsessed with superficiality, it would be so easy to critique any feature that is not “flawless” – whatever that means – but none of it matters in the end. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. 

Last September, my brother, my wife, and I went to a concert we had been looking forward to for a long time. The opener, who was not advertised as a part of the concert, was very difficult to listen to. On one hand, I could have stewed in frustration waiting for it to be over, or I could have thought of how funny the memory of that night would be in the future. 

I chose the latter, and I was happy throughout the opening act. 

On the day of my wedding last month, my wife and I wanted to quite literally tie the knot during the ceremony. We had a special blue-and-white rope we had bought for the occasion, and we practiced tying it in the rehearsal. When the ceremony itself came, we realized – up on the stage and in front of all hundred or so guests – that we had forgotten the rope in the building. We could have interrupted the ceremony to retrieve it, which would have been awkward, or we could have simply moved on. I whispered to the officiant to skip the rope portion of the ceremony, and we carried on like normal. 

While it was somewhat disappointing that we did not get to do that, it was not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. The rest of the day was near perfect and will forever be one of my happiest memories. 

In these situations, what are the consequences of imperfection? An odd-looking tooth, an hour of less-than-pleasant music, a quick moment of panic in a day you have been planning for a year, and then what? The consequences of most imperfections are irrelevant or transient – or both, drifting away into the past to never be seen again. 

And if you make the most of these imperfections, they may even become sources of joy. 

There are many times in which being a perfectionist is warranted – and even helpful – but the perfectionist must be vigilant in keeping themselves separate from their work. 

If you do struggle with something like this, know that there is hope. I stand testament to how deeply a worldview like this can become ingrained in one’s identity, but I also stand testament to the ability to break free from that grip.