I’ve always believed it was my job to fix the world. To make everything perfect.
I never actually said that. I didn’t even consciously think it. But I walked through the world feeling a sort of panic — a desperation to fix things — that most people never experience.
Looking back, it’s obvious now where that fear came from. As I was growing up, my narcissistic father held me responsible for being perfect. I was punished for any deviation from what he thought was right and good. And he constantly judged everybody and everything around me.
Behind their backs, he ridiculed people who did things incorrectly. If he saw a public mistake — a timing error on a live television show or a typo in a newspaper, for instance — he used to tell me that someone must have been fired for the mistake. And I believed him.
I’m still afraid of my own imperfection. I still feel panic when I see others’ mistakes. After all these years, there’s still a nagging feeling inside that I have to fix everything — or else I’ll be punished.

FRIDAY FUNNIES
Hidden chains need to be broken, so I’ve become a reluctant rebel
Flashy ‘stimulus’ projects conceal truth that the state destroys wealth
We’re trapped in our own heads, fearful of other folks’ judgment
For a culture where God is dead, spiritual emergence is madness
Was Columbus a hero or a special kind of evil monster? Neither one
In cold and dehumanized culture, many yearn to feel human again