Carte blanche to Stéphane Dompierre | Perfectionism is not my worst fault

With their unique pen and their own sensitivity, artists present their vision of the world to us. This week, we give carte blanche to author and publisher Stéphane Dompierre.

The other day at a book launch, a guy was talking to me, convinced that his one-sided conversation was interesting to me. No doubt my pensive look fooled him. I seemed to find his words profound, but I was instead busy asking myself a thousand questions. Is this person aware that their narcissism is very irritating? Is this his worst fault? Are people aware of their faults in general? And, if so, do they seek to correct them, or do they maintain them? And how do we get rid of them or, at the very least, mitigate them? Is there a user manual?

I inquired. The process is pretty clear, and a little lengthy, but easy to find if you’re interested, so I won’t go into detail about it.

But the basis, obviously, is to succeed in finding them. Do you know your worst fault? (This is not a job interview, so there’s no point in responding spontaneously: “I’m too perfectionist, hehe.”) If so, what do you do with it? Are you trying to hide it? Do you tend it like a delicate plant because you think it’s not that bad, that it’s just “a personality trait”? What if you kidded everyone about it, but no one dared to point it out to you?

I’ll reveal mine to you: basically, I believe that everyone is malicious. I believe everyone has shady intentions. Until proven otherwise, anyone unknown to me is most likely Machiavellian or, at the very least, ill-intentioned.

I discovered this cute little trait a few weeks ago, the time I opened the giant bin (it came with the duplex, six of us can hide in it) to see if our recycling had been picked up. On top of the empty boxes sat a colorful comforter that didn’t belong to us. Concerned about the environment, but above all not interested in the bin emptyers judging me, I took it out to put it in a garbage bag.

She was wet.

Wet from what, I don’t know. I didn’t feel it.

This is where my failure to “lend intentions” comes in big time. I only see one explanation: a neighbor put an apartment on Airbnb. People rented it to shoot a porn film. Wanted to throw away the comforter cheap on which the humid performance took place. Put this in my bin and set off, carefree, towards other adventures.

I’m probably far from the truth, but that didn’t stop me, after putting that wet thing in a trash bag, from washing my hands for an hour.

To cure myself of this exhausting reflex of always imagining the worst, I now try to imagine a new scenario each time, but by infusing it with empathy and humanity.

A child, embarrassed to still escape into bed at his age. He sleeps on an old comforter, just in case. He wakes up at dawn, dismayed to see that he has escaped again. He sneaks out of the house and tries to get rid of the incriminating comforter. He sees my giant recycling bin. Climb a very high ladder to reach the lid of the bin. Throw the comforter of shame in.

I’m probably still just as far from the truth, but this scenario irritates me a lot less.

When, in a car, someone drives excessively slowly in front of me, it is obvious that this person is taking advantage of their journey to write hateful comments on Facebook without looking at the road, is preparing to shoot passers-by at random, or is knitting a little woolen sweater for the Antichrist who would have just been born.

While this person may be looking for an address while trying not to run over anyone. I’m often that person who drives slowly while looking for an address and trying not to run over anyone.

I notice it, I’m doing pretty well, since it plays out in my head and those around me don’t really notice it. By the way, I could almost have said: “I’m too much of a perfectionist, hehe. » I’m probably not the best person to identify my worst flaw. Maybe I should ask my friends instead, or better yet, people who don’t like my face.

But it seems to scare me a little. They will no doubt tell me that it is hard to choose from the long list that spontaneously comes to mind, and point out to me that I am acerbic, bitter, arrogant, pushy, antisocial, and that they can find at least five of them for me. to each letter of the alphabet and that…

Well, that’s it, I’m still attributing the worst intentions to people. I will continue to work on this defect, I think. And you ?