I kept living as a perfectionist for a few years. Everyday was the same. Perfect everything.
Until one day, I heard that I had a B in math.
I immediately asked my fifth grade math teacher if I could do some extra credit. She was okay with that and gave me some work to do.
When I was finished, I gave it all to the teacher. After all that hard work, I had somehow only brought my grade up to a B+.
I asked her if I could have more extra credit, and she asked me if my parents were really that strict. I explained to her that no, my parents would be happy with a B+, but I would not be.
So she gave me more work to do, and I finished that semester with an A in her class. I was glad for that, but I knew from then on, that I would need to work harder in the next years of my life of school in math. I realized that if I got a B in math that year, I eventually would get a C later if I wasn't careful.
[Note: My math teacher that year was the coolest teacher you could imagine]