I joke that I am a perfectionist with borderline OCD. My kids always complain that I need to have everything perfect all the time. I used to think that was a compliment. They would get so annoyed when  their hair had to always be done and their beds made. I frantically ran around the house cleaning everything, including closets, minutes before we traveled out of town. I cringed at inside-out socks in the laundry and repeatedly demonstrated the importance of putting towels away with the folds facing outward. I’m pretty sure, in my case, perfectionism is not a compliment. Can you relate? The curse of perfection can sometimes hold us back and we don’t realize it.