I am a stickler for proper spelling, grammar, and manners. I’ve been known to reply to random posts on Facebook to point out the difference between “your” and “you’re.” I even have a file in my phone labeled “Typos” to store the numerous pictures I’ve taken of signage errors.  One time, I’m embarrassed to admit, I picked up a toy that a little kid had dropped right in front of me, and when I handed it back to silence from both the parent and the child, I loudly said “you forgot to say thank you.”   And although I exercise more caution now than I used to, I know I’m not alone in my pursuit to correct these wrongdoers. I like to think I’m being helpful but those unsuspecting people, I’m super-annoying.

Because I don’t want to be super-annoying, I’m attempting to retrain my brain to overlook the errors and shortcomings that would otherwise drive me crazy. My goal is to flip the switch inside my brain that instantly spots errors in spelling, grammar, and manners, and make a conscious choice to look at their intentions. Did the mom intend to piss me off by not thanking me for returning her child’s toy?  Did the author of that Facebook post use a “speak to text” application, in which case Siri, or Alexa, or whomever didn’t get the correct usage of the word from the context?

In other words, I’m choosing peace over perfection.

This is not an easy path for me. I mean, the peace part is easy. It’s who I am and what I do. Yet choosing it over perfection is an ongoing struggle. As with any other habit, ridding myself of the desire to correct other people seems to be taking a lot of time and energy. My first step is to stop rationalizing that I’m being helpful. It’s one thing if somebody asks me to proofread their resume, and it’s another to send a direct message to the local news channel because someone on their staff doesn’t understand possessive plurals. In fact, I recently stopped myself mid-comment to tell a total stranger that I took issue with the word “I’s” (as in “my husband and I’s favorite dessert . . .”). I mean, really? My fingers could barely type that fake contraction, I’m was that irritated. Of course I ended up deleting my comment before I posted it. But it really pissed me off for a full minute. And then I remembered that I have chosen peace over perfection.

Instant calm.

This is a revelation for me, and I think it might be a revelation for you  as well. Unless you’ve bowled a 300, shot a hole-in-one, or struck out 27 batters, perfection is overrated. Expecting it of ourselves is a recipe for disappointment. So is expecting it of others when we really haven’t the authority to do so.

To those of you who share my (hopefully, prior) affliction: are you willing to choose peace over perfection?