My name is Amy Leigh and I’m an idealist. I want to spend every day skipping through fields of daffodils, following God with zeal, and talking with people ‘til our souls become sealed. I want cooperation, affection, and communication. I get frustrated, even discouraged, when faced with common realities of life: people leave their dogs’ poop on my grass, wink while talkin’ crass, and subordinate others below ceilings of glass. I ignored the discouragement, allowing it to morph into a giant named Despair. My coping mechanism? Mastering the mixology of perfectionism and drainkin' that cocktail dry. The recipe is simple: to the base of idealism add a shot of high…