This is something I repeat to myself on occasions when I feel like packing it all in.
When the perfectionist in me suddenly decides that not only is everything unsalvageable and imperfect, but that we must immediately destroy it all (in case we ever get any bright ideas about trying again).
The perfectionist in me isn’t big on logic.
And when it kicks off like this, I calmly murmur “baby, bathwater” as I coax it down from the high place it’s climbed to, persuade it to drop the flamethrower, and gently lead it back into its pen.
I remind myself, in other words, not to throw away the good, the necessary, because of the inevitable (and sometimes, also necessary) bad. Continue reading