Another View on an Old Subject.

There was a time when I was a perfectionist, but even though I’ll still seek perfection where reasonable and practicable (like in the hanging of pictures, for example,) in general I’ve given it up. I didn’t find it particularly difficult to give up, either. Being an idealist is something else entirely.

I found that perfectionism was little more than an obsessional overlay, whereas my ideals have turned out to be an integral part of me. Giving them up would be like having my kidneys removed and expecting to live normally. I’ve been trying to ignore several of them most of my adult life, but all they did was grumble away in the pit. They didn’t die; on the contrary, they became stronger down there in the darkness. There had to come a time when I set them free and learned to live with them, even though they are in large measure responsible for the lonely road I now find myself walking. Strong ideals filter one’s view of everything strongly – people, lifestyle, situations, issues – everything. But if you can’t help having them, you can’t avoid the consequences.