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Sometimes I get stumped by perfection. Let me explain. I used to be a perfectionist. You would never think so if you saw me now. I have learned to let it go…sometimes.

When I was young, my room was clean, everything had its place. In high school (even in math class) I would rewrite my homework before I handed it in because I wanted it to be neat. I know, crazy right? Like I said if you saw my house now, you would never believe it.

I have slacked, but that perfection instinct is still there. For example, on our family vacation to the east coast last month, I was planning to keep a journal. I wanted it to be perfect. Daily journal entries with impeccable handwriting, and since my photo albums are all digital now, I was excited to add brochures, metro passes and ticket stubs too.

I had planned to write everyday, that didn’t happen, so I wanted to just drop it, not keep a journal of our trip. “Sonya, it doesn’t have to be perfect,” I told myself, “It’s just for you to look back on, remember this time with your family.” I made myself jot notes when I could. My writing was messy, real messy. I wanted to stop. I fell behind and my ticket stubs, metro passes and random papers were piling up. I wanted to throw them in the garbage. I made myself toss them in an envelope.

“They don’t have to be in order Sonya.” I reminded myself.

On the 4th of July (after our vacation) when I was waiting to pick up my daughter from the ferry dock, I wrote and wrote. It was sloppy, but I finished detailing our trip. The next day I thumbed through papers and taped them in my messy journal. I smiled as I remembered our sprint to the Off-Broadway show Peter and the Star Catchers and our midnight stroll across the Williamsburg Bridge in to Brooklyn.

It has been worth it to let go of perfection. (Even if my house is a mess.)

Writing Prompt: Write about a time when you let go of perfection.