In layman’s terms, I am a perfectionist. To be a little more clinical, I have perfectionist tendencies. Frequently this tendency is accompanied by procrastination, which to me, seems an obvious twofer.If you can’t do what you want perfectly today, you might as well wait until tomorrow when you might be able to do it perfectly.
Occasionally, my perfectionism creates a problem for me when I do not enjoy some of the things that I do. Or I do not enjoy other things like people or well everything? And then a little voice in my head says, “Hey! Dumbass! Have you ever heard the expression ‘nothing’s perfect?’”
Lots of people are perfectionists. I have not been tested to see if I’m “outside the norm” or “somewhere on the spectrum. And, I do not know where it comes from. In psychology they use a word, complex, to describe the fact that each person has a set of little quirks, interpretations, and genetics, and experiences that lead to who you are. So my perfectionism is part of my complex.
Mostly psychologist don’t know where that stuff comes from. The Freudian stuff is not part of the current modern view for instance. It’s a bit too simple. Perfectionism would appear to come form the superego. Case closed if you were Freud. It took someone else to say, “where is that? and what created the superego?” Probably a perfectionist is my guess.
Anyhow, right now I am realizing that perfectionism is keeping me from enjoying my house. We have worked hard on our house and our yard. I keep saying when are going to finally be done doing stuff. And I started early on this too. The first visitors were stripping wall paper and helping me install new faucet. Thanks family.
I need to stop doing that. Wait. That’s perfectionist phrasing. I want to stop doing that. I would prefer to enjoy all the work that we’ve done. Okay. I can try to do that.
Broadly speaking, I am disputing an irrational belief. Somewhere I developed the habit of unconsciously saying phrases such as I need to finish this. Or this has got to be perfect. Instead, when I catch myself doing that, I can rephrase my internal dialog. Clearly, the house does not NEED to be complete or perfect for enjoyment. The kids and Amy enjoy it as it is. Lots of people think it is delightful and aesthetic pleasing. Realistically, what is perfect in a house anyway? Something is going to break or go out of date or need paint. It naturally needs care but not perfection.
This knowledge is also at the heart of why I didn’t like the idea of buying a house in the first place. But that’s okay too. It was a bit of test to buy one. I knew that I was defending myself against the idea of perfection, that is I was using a kind of procrastination. It doesn’t matter one way or the other if I screw up renting or buying. It seems like the damage is less if you rent but is it? Being kicked out of your house would suck whether you rent or buy.
Yesterday, I dug up a tree. We had a beautiful Japanese maple die in our front yard. We put it in (actually someone else did) when we re-did our front yard. I did a tree-opsy, and it appears the clay soil you find in our area, coupled with the extreme heat and dryness we had when we put in the tree prevented it from putting root down very far. It tried to compensate by putting out lots of lateral roots but ultimately it was essentially starving.
Taking out was lot of work. And it was sad and disappointing.
Trees are resilient and in other setting other than your front yard, nature can wait out the conditions and compensate by becoming an old gnarly tree. Sometimes that can be cool but it takes a long time. In the meanwhile you are looking at sick tree. But that stuff happens. Oh well. It is easy not to expect a tree to be perfect.

I read a book last week called Dopefiend: A Father’s Journey from Addiction to Redemption. I thought it was a very good book. It is a memoir written by a colleague of mine from The Mothership, where we both toil as technical writers.
This book was inspirational on a couple of levels: it is a story with a qualified happy ending. Tim is a good guy, salt-of-the-earth kind of East coaster. He offers me a bit of a kindred spirit. MA is not PA but the similarities tickle a part of my reptilian brain. “Something is familiar about this guy.”
It also offers an oblique insight into the world of the 12 step program. I was surprised not by the inclusion of the 12 steps but by the way Tim interpreted it. I was bit of skeptic there and when I heard Tim’s inner dialog in the book, it was illuminating.
When I found out about Dopefiend, I knew what I had to do. I wasn’t going to ask for a book, I was going to buy the book on Amazon – the same way I would any book. In a way, I was respecting the process. I don’t know how many people will publish books but, particularly for this subject, it seemed right. I was happy to receive it in the mail and then arranged to have lunch with “the author” so that he could sign it for me. The Full Monty – so-to-speak.
We had a great lunch and conversation. I put my review of the book on the Amazon review, under a pseudonym.
Talking to Tim, I thought back to my own trials and tribulations. I’m not ready to completely unburden in this forum on a couple of notable events in my life. But as I’ve moved from “depression” to relative wellness, I struggle with one of the obvious themes. When do you “Get over it?” 
In the 12 step programs, I believe there is concept that you are an alcoholic for life. Thus, you have to take “one day at a time.” There are always meetings to go to. You have a sponsor. In the 12 steps, there is no idea of magic day in the future when you have gotten over it.
Truth be told, I’m not a fan of these programs. As a young person, my mother sent me to Alateen. It was held on the campus of Holy Cross College. I don’t know what age I was, but I remember being slightly embarrassed by the whole thing. I might be been 12 or barely a teenager. That fact was a bit difficult. I don’t remember even how I got to the meetings but I think my aunt drove me.
I don’t remember how many times I went but I knew it wasn’t going to work for me. From that point on, I was very aware of the concept of alcoholism and the prominent role it had in my family. It was well-intentioned on the part of my mother to send me to what she thought would help me.
Now, over thirty years later. I cannot say I’ve gotten over it. I have found strategies that help me deal with the the effects of an alcoholic parent. I’m only using that phrasing for convenience. Is my dad an alcoholic? I don’t know. But that’s the easiest phrasing for me to use.
I see the whole constellation of drug and alcohol use as a form of self-medication. It seems like an easy way to deal with pain and difficulty. The problem is that it doesn’t deal with the first order problem in the first place, but I’m not breaking any new ground there.
Maybe the 12-step program has the right idea: there is no concept of getting over it. For me, avoiding depression is the most simple goal I can articulate. I consider my past an influence there but not a dominating one. My father’s use of alcohol had an effect on me. I was very angry about it. I felt as though I didn’t matter as much as I should. I felt a lack of attention. And, I saw the same thing with my mother and siblings and that affected me too. I felt bad.
Was any of this beyond the norm? I have no idea. I bet many of my peers in my hometown were in similar places. But that’s their lives, not mine. It offers little comfort to me.
I could say I forgiven my father, and in a way I have. That’s a nice tidy synopsis. But that’s a bit too “over it” for me. I have the best relationship I can have with my father now. He is a good man, if a bit troubled. I think he is more comfortable in his own skin now, somehow. It doesn’t matter if I have forgiven him, actually. What matters is that I understand him and his situation better. I have always loved him, even when I hated him. I love him now. And for whatever reason, in his later years he seems a bit more open.
As grandfather, he impresses me. His influence in my life, through my wife who he adores, and my kids is great source of pleasure. I try to enjoy that “one day at a time” too.