I hate to admit it, but I used to brag about being a perfectionist. For a long time, I thought it was a compliment. Being a perfectionist meant I cared. I worked hard. I was responsible. I got the best grades. I showed up. I tried so hard to do everything well. I thought perfectionism was part of what made me successful. After decades of living, studying, becoming a full-fledged adult, and becoming a clinical psychologist to boot, I see it differently now. What I once called
