Pursuit of perfection... or else

 I have definitely always been a perfectionist, if someone from my old primary school I bumped into after years still remembered you were interested in top grades only.

But whatever I did, however hard I tried, it was still not good enough. Certainly not for my Parents - when I was the only 1 out of 5 people and only girl to get above a B in Year 10 GCSE Maths, all I heard was “And why not A*?"; and Dad's relentless catchprase “What, you want a medal?” heard every time I [i]gently[/i] requested praise… Such treatment just got me saturated with the conviction that I'll never be good enough.

My family of course wasn't one to admit there was something peculiar about this child, just using the “she's sensitive ” rhetoric to explain things rather than actually address the problem… I had to chase up the NHS all by myself to finally get a diagnosis, which only happened when I was 20. All these years could've been so different had I been spotted earlier - perhaps I'd have gotten the help and support I needed before my whole life became as senseless as it is now?? And I had to hear how "selfish" and "lazy" I allegedly am, when what it really was is the struggle to relate to others and coping mechanisms to avoid various mental overloads. Now I work the hardest to never hear these hurtful words [b]ever again[/b]…

So I mustn't be a parasite. I must earn my right to oxygen that I breathe. I must leave a meaningful contribution to society. Otherwise - what's the point of me living??

Lately I've become even harsher on myself. I demand at least 99% efficiency because I've long depleted my life quota of errors. "Everyone make mistakes" - OK but not for everyone everything you touch falls apart, does it… Plus if you make the same error all over again you're just a dimwit who never learns. And I cannot afford to do that.

If pleading nicely doesn't work you've got to take it a step further. I've always had a knack for self-harm, my meltdowns pretty much consist of me screaming and beating myself any way I can. Yes I've bruised myself before and made my head bleed too. Oh well. Aside from that, I've also cut my arms enough to start enjoying slashing them rather than dread it, so that hardly works as a punishment anymore. Recently I made a mixture consisting of water, salt, washing up liquid, mouth rinse, and a drip of Cif surface cleaner - just the smell of it made me dizzy. I quite wanted to make myself drink it - one spoon at first - if I kept making even more errors; I only ultimately haven't because I punished myself in a different way - I'll get to that soon.

Now I'll pause there briefly and explain what I do. One of my big interests are buses, and although I prefer to just ride them, I do photographing to and it quite got into my head lately. I cannot be too bad as I've had my snaps printed and I get freebies for it as well. I've now become obsessed with sharpness and quality and expect all my photos to be of a high standard now. No "if"s or "but"s, because if others can do it, why can't I? It's also a way of keeping historical records - so it does match the expectation of making of an actual meaningful contribution to society. But if I don't perform, I get very annoyed with myself. And it really doesn't help there is so much traffic in London, it really doesn't - evil cars, vans and taxis always have to budge in everywhere - oh and pesky cyclists too of course - urm how about no… I actually refer to all this as my Bus Duty and the reason I get so flustered if it doesn't work is because I feel I failed doing the one simple task that I've been given, and therefore now become useless, losing my sole life purpose and don't deserve to be alive anymore…

Last time I made a fatal error I've found a rather big stick and beat myself with it for well over 20min, and some guy got concerned and alarmed the services. I was detained under Mental Health Act 136 and spent a few hours in this hospital place. They said they made a referral to my GP and wanted me to start seeing someone, and I said 'alright, but you're not a wizarfwizard and can't fix my life'. It's true though. How does visiting a psychologist every so often solve [i]anything[/i]? They can't make all my photos work and for people who I fancy to like me back. Life doesn't work like that. I've got my GP appointment in 2 days but watch the actual referral take months and months - with such state of mental health services I'm surprised there's even anyone living this long to see anyone…

In the mean time, even though I was supposed to take a rest from buses (I even got rest of the week off from work - where they know I'm on the spectrum and are understanding - phew!) but something very rare came up and I just had to get it… Unfortunately once again made a chain of errors and my results were nowhere near an acceptable standard, and as the bus got subbed off to go back to the garage, I threw trash from the bin over myself, slapped my face several times and sat near the path of passing buses hoping one will run over this piece of garbage I am. It was adjacent to a bigger shopping centre and I seem to have grabbed the attention of the security who again became concerned, and guess what… I've managed to pull a 136 twice in 5 days. See, such a joke of a life.

You see, I'm a very honest person and do tend to say what I'm thinking, so my friends are no strangers to the notion I'm this awful ugly monster who shouldn't be alive. They are slowly getting fed up of it - oh well - but it's me who's forced to live this joke of a life. To be fair I wish killing myself was much easier than it really is… I'm pretty much back to the state I was in 2015 when death was all I had on my mind at the end of the day… If you're not good enough for those you truly care about, what does that make you? I'm adamant there's a reason why I've been treated the way my Parents treated me, and why I've always been single - because the issue clearly lies with me, who could ever love someone this incompetent?? Yes to me life is one big competition. Just cause we are [i]Homo sapiens[/i] and would not normally get eaten by another creature, don't mean we are exempt from natural selection. You're either a winner or a loser, and there's zero doubt I'm the loser. That's why I can't have nice things. I must continue to impress if I ever want to get anywhere. But at the moment, I just need to look in the mirror to feel nauseous… If I was at least pretty then that'd be one small way to make up for the losses I'll get, but as I clearly aren't, I'm just a nobody.

It's probably one vicious circle, which either will end with death, or a miracle if that ever takes place… But if anyone has anything legitimately constructive and helpful to say - as opposed to the generic empty 'oh no it can't be true! Oh don't worry' - then go ahead. :(