Perfectionism is Its Own Reward

I want to write all this out but I don’t know how. I’m still so caught in Gloria’s ways of thinking. She downplays all of my achievements and makes them seem worthless. Because they’re not what she values, and anything less than 100% is not good enough. ‘Oh, you got a Distinction? Why didn’t you get a High Distinction? Oh, you managed to get a High Distinction? Look at many marks you still could have got.’ Credit is the same as Fail, according to her. This doesn’t make for easy. I am dreading the results of my final English assignment. It was a rush job, and I know all I really need to do is Pass. That really will be enough. But still, if I only Pass… and what if I don’t even manage that?

I see why my psychiatrist calls her a b****. But I still end up believing her over everyone and everything else. My breakfast is sitting here next to me. It has been for quite a while now. I’m back to the every mouthful struggle. I’m not hungry. I don’t need food. I certainly don’t want it.

I read the letter I wrote to myself for when I was here. It’s so unreal to think that was written by me, that I was in that place. That I can be again. That I deserve that at all.

My teaching prac finished prematurely again. Not because of my physical health, this time. Not my choice either. I was really struggling to keep up with the paperwork. I still had assignments to write, and an exam to study for as well as give everything to teaching and learning on prac. So my university and the school I was teaching in took one of my pressures away. I wanted it to be the exam.

But that’s all done now too. And I’m confident I passed. I think.

I should stop writing and eat my muesli.

Gloria is not me.

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