Stop at good enough

That looks like high standards from the outside. From the inside it's fear wearing a work apron, because an unfinished thing can't be judged yet.

Before you touch it, write down what finished looks like. Two sentences. The email says this, the shelf holds that, the report answers the question asked. Then build to that line and set the tool down. Without a line written in advance, you'll move it every time you get close, and you'll call that dedication. A target you keep moving is not a target. It's a reason to never arrive.

The first pass fixes real problems. The second catches what you missed. By the fifth you're changing a word to a synonym and changing it back. That's not craft anymore, that's stalling with good posture. Learn the feel of it. When you catch yourself undoing your own corrections, you're done. Walk away. The work has stopped improving and you've started hiding.

Nobody is grading the version in your head. They can only use the one you hand over. Something good in their hands beats something perfect in your drawer every single time, and the real feedback you need will never come from more hours alone with it. Send it. Hang it. Hit publish. You'll survive what comes back.

Pick the one thing you've been polishing and hand it over before the day ends.

There's a reason you can't stop sanding. If the work is what makes you acceptable, then unfinished work means the verdict is still pending, and pending feels safer than final. So you stay in the shop. Scripture cuts that loop at the root. "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." (Ephesians 2:8-9) The verdict on you came in already, and it didn't wait for your tenth draft. That frees the work to be work. Useful, honest, good enough, done. You can hand it over with steady hands because your standing was never riding on it.