Ever since I was young, I’ve had a bit of atelophobia. There are times that I feel like I’d rather do something perfectly or not at all, which can be a little problematic when the tasks at hand are non-negotiable.

It has taken me a long time to get to a point where near-perfect is okay, but I always end up having to remind myself that my best shot is good enough. Something I’ve always tried to keep in the back of my mind at times like these is the lyrics to an old song by Motion City Soundtrack. The song is called “Perfect Teeth,” and it is not about dentistry.

Instead, the lyrics encourage listeners to realize that we’re “perfect teeth the way we are.” That message has been helpful at times when I feel like I’m bound to fail no matter how hard I try. It’s also helpful when my teeth get messed up.

A few months ago I broke the (allegedly) permanent retainer glued to the back of my bottom teeth, a relic of the physically and emotionally painful years of orthodontia I endured in junior high.

In the time it took me to get the retainer replaced, one of my teeth shifted out in front. Goodbye, perfect teeth.

What’s ridiculous is that the shift is a literal millimeter. It’s pretty much imperceptible to anyone who isn’t poking around in my mouth with metal tools (which is the vast majority of people I meet) but the imperfection is driving me insane.

I think the same could be said for many aspects of my life, and that sentiment probably rings true for many people. Though things seem perfectly fine to outsiders, a lot of us find ourselves worried about straightening out the minute details that keep parts of our lives from being perfect.

To a degree, attaining “perfection” is extremely satisfying. Most of the time, it’s so mind-blowingly stressful it’s hard to function.

I’ve spent a lot of time exploring why, for me, most things fall into a binary of “perfect” or “failing.” If I had the answer, I would be happy to share it with all of you perfectionists. Unfortunately, I don’t.

So instead I’ve had to settle for spending even more time trying to be okay with less-than-perfect. Sometimes it works. Other times it doesn’t.

Because I’ve realized that “perfect” isn’t a healthy or realistic goal, I try to keep my expectations in check. What I’ve found is that sometimes when I am reaching for perfection, I end up feeling like I’ve failed again by setting an unattainable goal.

If wanting to be perfect means I’ve failed, and failing means I’ve failed, I’ve really put myself in a no-win situation. In order to maintain my sanity and self-worth, I’m really trying to change the way I think about myself and my accomplishments.

Of course, that’s a process that will probably prove to be as emotionally painful as two years of walking around with brackets and wires glued to my teeth during the height of puberty.

There are still times that I let myself try to be perfect. With the help of Idaho Orthodontics’ Dr. Eric D. Johnson, I’m hoping to get that tooth back in line with its fellows.

But, by and large, I hope we’ll all remind ourselves that, literal as it may be, we truly are perfect teeth the way we are.