Tight ropes

I am not perfect. I could even call myself a perfectionist, but that’s not the whole picture. I know mistakes happen every day—yet I keep striving as if perfection is a permanent state I should reach and hold. Every misstep feels like failure, not just error.

Take Sundays in the fall. I want to win every fantasy football matchup. I go over my draft countless times, changing lineups, reading every injury report. I can shrug off a messy car or a cluttered desk, but one fumbled lineup can ruin my mood.

Or school leadership: I have a doctorate and strong outcomes, yet I still scrutinize every decision, replay conversations, wonder if I should have been sharper, calmer, wiser. At the same time, I feel fine about a daily blog post that isn’t polished, or releasing music that might not trend. By every reasonable measure, I’m doing okay—better than okay.

This reveals what I’ve come to call unrelenting standards—a perfectionism that demands a flawless life, not just excellent moments. It’s different from wanting a perfect SAT score or a pristine event; those are measurable goals. Life doesn’t work like that.

And yet the pull is strong. It’s like Odysseus hearing the Sirens. Their song promises ultimate beauty but leads to shipwreck. We know the chase is deadly, but we still tie ourselves to the mast of impossible expectations.

Scripture offers a better way: “There is not a righteous person on earth who does what is right and never sins” (Ecclesiastes 7:20). Jesus’ words echo across the sea: “My yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:30).

Today I’m choosing to sail past the Sirens. I still value excellence, but I want to live a story where mistakes are teachers, not verdicts—where presence and grace weigh more than a flawless performance.

What about you? Where are you still chasing a perfect life instead of a full one?