Letting Go of Perfection: What Life (and My Dogs) Teach Me About Progress Every Day

I used to think progress looked like a checklist: chores done, goals met, everything in its place. These days, I’ve come to realize it looks more like a scattered pile of dog toys in the living room, a half-finished to-do list, and a teenager saying, “I don’t know,” with honesty in her voice. And I’m okay with that—more than okay, actually. I’ve found a kind of peace in letting go of perfection.

Let me explain.

I live with three dogs—each with their own personality, quirks, and, let’s just say... approach to cleaning up after themselves. One hides toys under the couch like precious treasure. Another leaves a trail of fluff from every squeaky toy “surgery.” The third? She looks at the toy bin like it’s a suggestion, not a destination. I used to get frustrated: Why can’t they just learn to clean up?

But then it hit me—why was I expecting them to be anything other than who they are? They’re playful, loyal, joyful little beings who remind me daily to enjoy the moment, not manage it.

The same realization has transformed how I show up for my grandkids, whom my spouse and I are raising. There was a time when “Why didn’t you do your chores?” was met with a snap: “I don’t know” isn’t an answer! Now? I pause. I say, “Think about it and let me know by the time you finish.” And when they say, “I forgot,” or “I was playing my PS5 and lost track,” I thank them for their honesty and we move on. Grace given. Respect earned.

In my coaching practice, I’ve learned that some of the most powerful moments come in the silence—when a client pauses, unsure, and says, “I don’t know.” Instead of pushing for an answer, I let the space breathe. We sit with the question together. That’s where growth lives: not in perfect plans or polished responses, but in reflection, vulnerability, and the courage to be real.

Letting go of perfection has taught me to meet others where they are—whether it’s a stubborn pup, a teenager learning how to express themselves, or a woman navigating burnout and rediscovering her purpose. The more grace I offer, the more trust I build. And in that trust, change begins.

Progress doesn’t always look tidy. It’s messy, emotional, nonlinear, and often filled with squeaky toys. But it’s still progress.

So no, my dogs still don’t put their toys back in the bin. But you know what? They make me laugh, keep me grounded, and teach me daily what it means to lead with love—not perfection. And in this season of life, that feels like the greatest success of all.

Sandra Evangelista, RN, MSN, CNML Lifestyle Coach | Dog Mom | Grandmother-in-the-Trenches