Perfection is the enemy of good...

and that's on growth.

I have been blessed with a delusional sort of confidence when it comes to crafts, baked goods, and other tactile projects. Shopping through handmade gifts or even not-handmade-but-could-be-handmade at bigger retailers, my first thought is always, “I could make that.” I see an example and without thinking through each step, I am certain that I will be able to achieve at least 90% accuracy.

It was something of a blessing when planning my wedding. I was adamant that our table numbers would be snow globes, the idea stuck in my head. However, it proved very difficult to find snow globes with numbers inside, so my delusional confidence found a way to make it happen. Similarly, I taught myself calligraphy, stationery basics, and watercolor to hand address every envelope, create signs and artwork, and fill our venue with personal touches. I did it because I was certain I could.

An unforeseen downside to this mentality is the need to get it right, the never-ending pursuit of perfection. With my wedding, this meant writing roughly an additional 40% of envelopes because they were not up to standard. It also meant, making our sweetheart table table number 1 because it was the first attempt and, surprisingly, was also not up to par and I would absolutely not be putting it on a guest table. Beyond hits to my pride and time, the pursuit of perfection can certainly take a toll on your wallet—again 40% extra envelopes, repurchasing more opaque paint, buying glycerin to fill the globes with water (the secret to making snow slowly fall) despite not filling them in the end, etc.

This past Christmas, I decided I wanted to make a gingerbread house. From scratch. Without having ever built a gingerbread house. Ever. Because I am delusional.

But somewhere, sometime after my wedding, I began to give myself more grace. I acknowledged the unrealistic and often unattainable bars I’ve forced myself to strive for, and began to accept that things can be done for the joy and not for the achievement. I found ways to forgive myself when things didn’t go to plan, without berating myself. I began to accept and strive for good rather than perfect.

So when the gingerbread dough clung to my rolling pin and tore and proved near impossible to work with (did I mention this was the first time I used this recipe, because I am crazy person?), I took a beat. It was 9pm, two days before the party, and while I could have started over and made the dough again, giving it 12 hours to chill and rest, and build the house the next day, I would be miserable and stressed the day before Christmas. I took a beat, I took a breath. And I pivoted.

The dough wasn’t perfect, but it tasted good. And while I couldn’t realistically build a full gingerbread house, I did have house shaped cookie cutter. A younger version of me would have powered-through and done everything in her power to build that stupid house. But this time, I found a new solution. Instead of sticking to the failing plan, I made use of the time and materials already invested, and found a good-enough road to completion. Was it perfect? No. Were they good and did they look cute? Yea!

Will I attempt a gingerbread house again this year? Probably, but with a bit more research and time budgeted. I’m still growing, alright, and I still like to finish the things I set my mind to.

I missed my May newsletter. Working in higher education meant that my day job was overtaken by commencement and reunion season. Some big personal life events began to occupy my free time. And somehow I was still expected to choose what I want for dinner each night? That Friday, as the hours ticked away, I felt that recovering perfectionist creeping up. That neurotic, delusional, sticky monster that said I was a failure if I didn’t stick to my promised schedule.

But again, I took a beat. I took a breath. And I decided, if the worst thing in this substack was missing a month, I would be okay. I hope you’ll forgive me.

We’re all just trying at this thing called life. Sometimes we need to be kind to ourselves and that was one of those times. I hope it won’t happen again, but if we’re being realistic that is not a promise I can make.

We’re striving for good, not perfect.