I am a huge perfectionist. My perfectionism started when I was diagnosed with dyslexia and other learning disabilities as a child. I assumed, at age six, that people thought I was an idiot. So I made sure I did everything perfectly. When I came home with one word wrong on a spelling test my mom had to deal with me sobbing for at least three hours until I exhausted myself and fell asleep.

This followed me all the way to, and through, high school. I made sure I never got bellow a 95% in anything. And if I did, I'd hate myself. I'd self harm. I'd cry, think I am the biggest idiot. I needed everything to be perfect with my grades. When I was admitted to a residential treatment facility out of state for my anxiety/depression, I had many a break down over the fact that I was missing midterms.

I am still a perfectionist. With homework, possible jobs, being heard. I don't know if it's part of my OCD or anxiety disorders, but it's not something I have been able to rid of. Sometimes I think it is a positive thing if done in a healthy way. But, alas.