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instability
15 years ago
I'm posting this primarily for catharsis, because I'm struggling right now to keep my head on straight. For a long time, I've suffered from a very debilitation obsession that hounds me, troubles me, and eats at me every time I turn around. It is something I fight with constantly, and not something I think my partner understands--or could understand if I talked about it.
I'm obsessed with being perfect. Academically, personally, markedly--or, if not perfect, then somehow 'good' in some intangible way. People who suffer serious addictions are probably rolling their eyes right now at this, but sitting here, staring at the bitemark in my hand that I delivered to prevent myself from howling in frustration at my own incompetence, after coming upstairs from punching the support for the house--a compromise, since my original intent was to bash my skull against it. I took a test, and the VERY FIRST thing I did was lambast myself for my obvious mistake. The 99% on the top of the paper was literally meaningless to me. Later, I actually got 101%--the top score in the entire class--and I still was upset with myself for the questions I missed. So what made me break down to the point where I was willing to inflict physical harm on myself?
I missed a quiz. I can't make it up. At most, the grade I can get in the course is a high B. That pathetic little differentiation is enough to make me reject my well-being and damage myself. If I understood why, I'd do something--anything--about it. I hate these emotional train rides that hit me and overpower me, I hate them very much. I feel worthless, like I don't deserve to live, when I make the slightest mistake--at home, at school, anywhere. It's something that torments me constantly, and it's the primary reason I desperately did not want to sign up for additional courses this semester. I have a very hard time convincing myself--despite the knowledge of my unintentional birth and lousy origin--that I deserve the basic comforts I have.
This is.... not healthy. I know it's not. It's stressful, and frightening, and aggrivating to people who live with me. It haunts me. It's also how I've always lived.
I'm going to cross post this to other journals I own, probably, on a more private setting. I just... need some release, which writing often offers me. Sorry for the angst again.
I'm obsessed with being perfect. Academically, personally, markedly--or, if not perfect, then somehow 'good' in some intangible way. People who suffer serious addictions are probably rolling their eyes right now at this, but sitting here, staring at the bitemark in my hand that I delivered to prevent myself from howling in frustration at my own incompetence, after coming upstairs from punching the support for the house--a compromise, since my original intent was to bash my skull against it. I took a test, and the VERY FIRST thing I did was lambast myself for my obvious mistake. The 99% on the top of the paper was literally meaningless to me. Later, I actually got 101%--the top score in the entire class--and I still was upset with myself for the questions I missed. So what made me break down to the point where I was willing to inflict physical harm on myself?
I missed a quiz. I can't make it up. At most, the grade I can get in the course is a high B. That pathetic little differentiation is enough to make me reject my well-being and damage myself. If I understood why, I'd do something--anything--about it. I hate these emotional train rides that hit me and overpower me, I hate them very much. I feel worthless, like I don't deserve to live, when I make the slightest mistake--at home, at school, anywhere. It's something that torments me constantly, and it's the primary reason I desperately did not want to sign up for additional courses this semester. I have a very hard time convincing myself--despite the knowledge of my unintentional birth and lousy origin--that I deserve the basic comforts I have.
This is.... not healthy. I know it's not. It's stressful, and frightening, and aggrivating to people who live with me. It haunts me. It's also how I've always lived.
I'm going to cross post this to other journals I own, probably, on a more private setting. I just... need some release, which writing often offers me. Sorry for the angst again.
Seriously, though... you should be upset that you have such a high standard and that you adhere to it so well that it rends at your soul. Having that spark of motivation to do well is something that makes you a better person.
That being said, there is but one thing I need to say; SHIT HAPPENS. Call it fate, destiny, Luck, Karma, or any one of the many explanations for it... We are imperfect to a fault. Ultimately, it is imperfection that makes life interesting, and the only thing we can do is carry on.
Yes, it is as clex said, in all her recent super insightfulness, the best is just to carry on, accept things when they happen, we're not designed to get it right every time. The trick is learning from that.