For me personally, perfectionism is something that you lose as you get older.
Interesting, I never thought about it like that (nearing my 60s). I decided to get rid of that 'perfectionist paralysis' of mine, like I used to call it, in my early 30s and never looked back but to this day it has remained a constant fight. I mean, I could as easily today spend weeks rewriting a single paragraph exactly like, in my 20s I was endlessly rewriting the first few sentences of most stories I wanted to write but never finished writing. Switching back to analog helped me a lot in that regard: rewriting by hand is a slow and painful process compared to the constant temptation of instantly editing on a computer screen, so writing longhand I quickly stopped mindlessly editing... but I don't think I'm smarter or wiser than I was back then. More aware of my laziness, maybe ;)
the only thing I worry is if I’m giving enough detail.
This bugged me for so long! I ended up with lengthy and, frankly speaking, unreadable blocks of text that would go on and on for pages. Nowadays, I only write a few noticeable details, if there is any deemed noteworthy, and joyfully ignore all other details.
For example, I was into that church a few days ago. I did not describe it in my journal despite having a lot to say about it. I only put down my impression of the quietness (damaged by the constant roaring noise of urban traffic, as the church is on a very busy street of Paris) and of its huge ceiling light plus the many light bulbs placed absolutely everywhere. I also wrote how, imho, electric light in old churches, that one at least, has ruined its mood by erasing any notion of deepness (very little shadows anywhere), uncertainty and stuff like that (like how those old churches were never built with electric lighting in mind, only candle and sun light which are so different and how electricity, by lighting everything equally, has made everything indifferent or too certain, merely a prop which churches like this one were not supposed to be). Anyone reading that passage of my journal would have no idea what the inside of that church looked like but would get a pretty accurate description of what I imagined the (non-electric) original light to be like, back then and how I think electricity has destroyed all of its magic. A couple or maybe three paragraphs, no more ;)
Don't feel sorry.
Have you considered writing in a journal? I started as a little boy myself (now well into my 50s) and it helped me tremendously all my life and still does to this day.
As a child, I could certainly not speak with my dad or my mom despite or because of the things that happened to me. Even ignoring my family, a lot of my thoughts I simply could not share them with my best friend as he would not have understood most of it. Writing in my journal, discussing with myself in my journal, was my way of dealing with that absolute loneliness (after I quickly learned to make said journal unreadable to my inquisitorial mother that would quickly find it and read it no matter how hard I tried to hide it)