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.

I keep forgetting that I can’t save those who don’t want to be saved
Heart that truly loves is a servant for another’s happiness and peace
Intense emotions let me feel alive — but hurt comes along with joy
A year after surreal experience of surgery, I’m still happy to be alive
Goodbye, Amelia (2000-2013)
Both sides of gun debate see what they want to see in D.C. shooting
Union rules protect pepper-spraying cop from the firing he deserves
If you were once a nerdy outsider, you need to go see ‘Ender’s Game’