I got up every day and tried to be perfect in every
possible way. If there was a test to be had, I had studied for it; if
there was an essay to be written, it was done. I smiled at everyone in
the hallways, because it was important to be friendly, and I made fun of
them behind their backs, because it was important to be witty. If
anyone had ever stopped and asked me why I did those things – well, I'm
not sure what I would have said at the time. But I can tell you today
that I did them to be perfect, in every possible way.
Being
brought up in a fairly affluent area meant I attended a well-off junior
high. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the perks, but the downside of this
was the pressure to live up to standard.
All around me were people who were good at school, good with other people, good at athletics, good at life. I started to push myself more and more, trying out for every school team, and berating myself when I didn’t get in. I ran around and around cramming activities into a packed day and never felt good if I left the school before 6:30 p.m. I compared myself to everyone around me and to the best of the best.
All around me were people who were good at school, good with other people, good at athletics, good at life. I started to push myself more and more, trying out for every school team, and berating myself when I didn’t get in. I ran around and around cramming activities into a packed day and never felt good if I left the school before 6:30 p.m. I compared myself to everyone around me and to the best of the best.
This
attitude only grew when I got into high school. Everyone seemed to have
the perfect body, the perfect skin, the perfect act. The pressure to
fit in, be popular, do well at school and to get things together was
starting to wear on me. It was the day I failed at something I had
wanted to succeed at very much that I woke up.
I
remember going numb when I got the news. Sitting there, I fell into the
center of myself. I looked for that core to sustain me. Being perfect
all my life, or at least managing to meet the expectations of my family,
friends, community, and society, meant that I had a black hole where my
core ought to have been.
Without it, I
broke. I was defeated! I gave up entirely and wandered around the next
week like a zombie; the mere mention of the incident of my failure would
bring me to tears. But slowly, I was able to pull myself up again – I
survived. I emerged stronger, and with something inside me that has held
me up ever since.
So what I want to say to
you today is this: if this sounds, in any way, familiar to you, if you
have been trying to be perfect in one way or another, too, then make
today the day to put down the backpack.
Nothing important, or
meaningful, or beautiful, or interesting, or great ever came out of
imitations. The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving
up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself. This
is more difficult, because there is no template to follow, no mask to
wear. Set aside what your friends expect, what your parents demand, what
your acquaintances require.
Begin
with that most terrifying of all things: a clean slate. Then look,
every day, at the choices you are making, and when you ask yourself why
you are making them, find this answer: for me, for me..
Article by Himmi Cheruvu