This afternoon I started painting a bathroom at a friend’s house. And whereas I didn’t get one complete coat done, I did come close. Plus, I’m learning to accept less than perfect as okay. Often when I’m editing a piece of writing or choreographing a dance routine, I can tweak forever. Eventually, my eyes cross. I don’t know what’s good and what’s bad. This is, of course, because what’s good, great, or perfect in one person’s eyes is blah or whatever in another’s. Tonight I watched a video on YouTube with two million views. Eight thousand people gave it a thumbs up. Two thousand people gave it a thumbs down.

Who’s right?

Recently I saw someone on a online forum ask, “What’s the difference between a perfectionist and a person who just appreciates excellence?” Well, first off, only a perfectionist would ask this question, a perfectionist who wants to believe they’re not a perfectionist. Who me? Never. I just have high standards. This thinking is insidious. I should know. I’m a perfectionist from way back. That being said, things are getting better. Over the last several years I’ve come to accept, if not embrace, many things in my inner and outer worlds that I previously would have turned my nose up at. Do I still appreciate excellence? You bet your sweet bippy. I can absolutely marvel at a flawless body, a well-decorated room, or prize-worthy writing. But do I NEED everything in my life to conform to my extremely high standards in order to have inner peace?

No.

I didn’t participate in the online conversation I just mentioned, but for me the big difference between a perfectionist and someone who appreciates excellence is the perfectionist will act compulsively and the person who appreciates excellence won’t. That is, a perfectionist MUST have things just so in order to move on or sleep well at night. Earlier I was editing a piece of music, and my perfectionist got hung up because the cut ended on count 7 instead of 8, the end of the measure. Well, I almost threw the whole project out. This is crap, I thought. No one will like it. Because of one beat! When most people don’t even count beats of music–OR CARE. Thankfully, I just got over it. Seven is the number of perfection, I told myself. And it was that simple. I just needed to tell myself a different story. Now I have a piece of edited music I didn’t have before.

At the very least, it’s good enough.

Several years ago I painted and redecorated nearly the entire interior of a friend’s house. Weeks after everything was done, I realized I’d used latex paint on their trim instead of oil-based. Now, this is a common thing to do, but it’s not technically “the best” thing to do because latex doesn’t stick to oil-based paint all that well. It comes off it’s bumped into a lot. Anyway, I called my friend in a panic. “I fucked up,” I said. But my friend wasn’t upset. I guess because THEY aren’t a perfectionist, at least when it comes to their house. “Is everything better than it was when you started?” they said. “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Then I’m happy,” they said.

Contrast this to how uptight Barbra Streisand got when she remodeled her house. (You can read about it in her book she wrote about design.) She absolutely insisted everything be just so. Like, do it over. Is her house beautiful? You bet your sweet bippy. But is she any happier living there than my friend is in their home? I doubt it. Because a perfectionist is never truly satisfied. There’s always SOMETHING to improve. Talk about tiring. So for all recovering perfectionists, I suggest looking at something that would normally drive you crazy–a crooked picture, an unfinished project, a less-than-perfect selfie–and leaving it alone. Go ahead, try it. Find a way to move on with your life. The world won’t fall apart.