Self-destruction

Since a young age, I have always been terrified of disappointing the people who are important to me, especially my parents. They pushed me to do my best and try my hardest at everything I do. It never was “you need all A’s” or “you need to have a 4.0”, but instead “try your best, because that’s all you can ever do”. Despite seeming like an easy goal, I put more pressure on myself because I knew they still expected the best. However, what they said was true; they didn’t and still don’t care about grades. It has been and always will be myself who produces the pressure to be the best that I am constantly carrying.

I was homeschooled until I was nine. I never had competition; my only fight was against myself, beating my old record, going further. I was smart, but only because I only fought against myself, striving to be better. I had a thirst for knowledge that only the nerdiest people could relate to. This is why I grew. There was no fear of disappointment because there were no standards to meet. Sometimes I would ask my father to give me a grade on an eight page research paper that I wrote for fun or ask him to give me homework even though I was always home. He would do it just to make me happy, but in the end it meant nothing, had no standing. I continued to work my hardest because I wanted to. As long as I wanted to learn and kept going, everything was fine.

When I was ten we moved, and I went to public school for fifth grade. It was the hardest transition I ever had to make. Suddenly there were grades and expectations and rules that I never had to conform to before. All of this was on top of the addition of twenty-five other kids in my class. Even though I was completely overwhelmed by the rules and social expectations, the work was never a problem. I felt even better because now I had proof for my parents that I was doing well. They were glad I was having fun, but I wasn’t trying. I never did anything substantial that was helping myself improve as a person and student. That’s when they decided to send me to Hebron.

My first year at Hebron, I was a small sixth grader who was the same age as most fourth graders. While academically it still was not a problem, I progressively put more and more stress on myself to make my parents proud with perfect grades. As always, my parents only cared that I was putting in my best effort and avoiding slacking off. I ignored their constant reminders and felt the need to do whatever it took to get the best grades. While middle school is not a high-pressure situation to be concerned about, this was only the beginning of a long career of unnecessary self-destruction.

All through freshman year to the beginning of this year, I carried this crazy belief that I had to be the best at everything I did, that I had to achieve everything possible to the highest standard possible. Even though this seems like a normal way of thinking, I based my success on grades rather than the amount I worked or learned. I stressed myself out more than needed and pushed it all down thinking that I was weak. Everyone else had the same amount of work and they were doing it. By the middle of last year, I couldn’t deal with it anymore. Every time I didn’t understand Shakespeare or couldn’t wrap my brain around a concept in chemistry, I fell apart. It wasn’t because I was frustrated, but because I thought I was letting my parents down after everything they had done for me up until that point. I carried this burden that I put upon myself until the middle of this year when I understood my parents’ position. Partially because if I kept going, I knew I would be more stress than human, and partially because I kept running out of tissues to save myself from mental breakdowns. No matter what the reason was, I accepted that the pressure I have put on myself for six years is my own, not from my parents. I will always carry the burden of feeling the need be perfect for my parents who have worked non-stop to give me the best opportunities. But now when I become overwhelmed, I know it’s only myself who will be disappointed.