Sacred Hunger by Barry Unsworth

"Unexpectedly, and in the midst of his anxieties, he found himself visited by compassion for this self-willed son of his, for whom life had always been a succession of self-imposed tests and ordeals."

I'm a perfectionist...always have been, always will be. Although my parents always encouraged me to do my best, only the VERY best would do for me. This self-imposed pressure goes all the way back to my single digits. Vivid case in point: In the third grade, I got an F on a workbook exercise (not a quiz or test, keep in mind) because I didn't follow the directions correctly. I clearly recall being so upset about it that when I showed it to my mom that night, I was crying my eyes out, not because I thought she'd be mad about it (I knew she wouldn't--in that moment, she probably found herself visited by compassion for her self-willed daughter) but because I knew I'd stupidly performed at less than my very best. I had no one to blame for my failure but myself. Therein lay the real worm eating away at my wise-beyond-its-years soul.

This is the first of the self-imposed ordeals I put myself through that I can remember (although there were probably a few prior to it) but it certainly wasn't the last. To this day, I still beat myself up over even the slightest flaws I detect in myself...most usually these days in regard to my work output. This character trait of mine is both a blessing and a curse. Although it turned me into a stellar student and subsequent entrepreneur, my life was been wrought with anxieties over an inability to at all times attain the impossible: perfection. Were she still alive, I've no doubt my mother would still feel that same compassion for her daughter she felt all those years ago, when a bright red F brought her nine-year-old offspring to inconsolable tears. Unfortunately, the only glaring difference between then and now is that I no longer have her loving arms to take away the bitter sting. Perhaps after twenty-five years, it's time I finally worked on letting this affliction of mine go...for anxiety's sake, for her sake, but most of all for my sake.