This seems to be the root of all problems I have. Not the problems themselves, but my addiction to the existence of problems.
What isn’t a problem: fun challenges–storytelling, winning and losing in sports games, habits I want for myself because I know they feel good.
What is a problem that is completely unnecessary: imagined imperfections.
I am realizing more and more that there was a part of me that wanted the imperfections to be there. It was almost as if that was the only way I could make life less boring. The problems were predictable but in such a way that I thought they were engaging.
It’s possible to check if I’m in this curious state or not by posing this question: What if everything is perfect?
In a state addicted to problems, this question will trigger something akin to alarm, panic. (Probably not an actual panic attack, but there will be something that feels very uncomfortable. “Oh, shit, no! What will become of me if everything is perfect?”) Then I can admit that, in fact, it looks like I didn’t want a problem-less state anyway. So, there is actually, ironically, nothing wrong with problems being there. Also, I can choose differently.