Ever since I was little, I’ve had the belief that school was of the utmost importance. Part instilled into me by my parents and teachers, who saw my potential, and part a result of my own personal drive, I’ve been a nerd as long as I can remember, glasses and all. I worked hard, and it paid off. My trophy shelf is stacked, but most of those trophies are from prep school, I’ll elaborate more on that in a second. The point is, I was good at school, and I knew it. From the outside, it may seem that I have most of my life together, especially because of the grades I get. But unfortunately for me, sometimes my control over my life seems to slip through my hand like sand. I can’t remember the last time I felt fully in control over my life, where i felt fully in control over what I was doing. Sure of myself. Confident in my abilities and accomplishments. Happy, or even cognizant of the personal and academic progress I’ve made. I’d like to think that I’m a good person, who does their best to accommodate everyone around them, but I have such a hard time coming to terms with myself. If I had a $100 bill for every time someone has told me I’m ‘too humble…’
There’s a fine line between humility and self-degradation. For me, I never really watched that. I let my fear of being arrogant prevent me from even appreciating myself. From appreciating my accomplishments. From even being confident in anything I do. In a session I attended at the Summer Program I went to last month, I was introduced to the concept of improvement by focusing on your strengths. It stunned me, because for so long, especially in an academic sense, I lasered in on my weaknesses. If I was seemingly inferior to the rest of my peers, I would relentlessly focus on bringing myself up to the perceived standard. If not, I would think about all the different ways I was at a disadvantage, and start to panic. What never fails to happen, though, is that I find out that everyone around me is usually as confused as I am, or feeling the exact same way I’m feeling. I think these feelings have intensified since I left home and started IB. Because of my “unique circumstances,” I found myself alone, and with plenty of time to think. Too much time. Way too much time. Starting a whole new system made me a nervous wreck, I would wake up with school on my mind. I thought, because of my lack of self-worth, that what I was doing currently wasn’t good enough, and that I had to hustle harder. I had to grind harder. In New York, I held myself to a strict schedule. I didn’t allow myself to have fun. In quarantine, I did the same. But even though I was on this schedule, I still didn’t think I was working hard enough. Nothing I ever did was enough. I remember waking up in a panic because of what I thought I had to do. I forced myself to cry alone because I didn’t want to seem inferior. I was emotionally in so much pain. I allowed my deepest, most intrusive thoughts to station themselves at the forefront of my mind. Imagine my surprise when I get to school and find out that I’ve been overworking myself. Despite being told that I needed time to adjust, I didn’t allow myself to be imperfect, to be worthy of improvement. It was only perfection.
If you want another example of how I’ve let my personal insecurities fester in relation to my academics, look no further than two days ago. The day that I promised my life would have to change. I was looking at my EE (extended essay), and I decided to look back at the rubric. Even though my research was well on its way to being good enough, I allowed my feelings of self doubt to overwhelm me, and all of a sudden my world was spinning, my palms turned into rags, and my vision fogged up, even though I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I got up and just walked out of my house and around my neighbourhood while I waited for my heart rate to return to normal and for the frustrated tears to fall. I stormed around the block, and not for the first time, I wondered why I was even trying in the first place. What? Why was I trying? I know I didn’t mean that, but at that moment I envied those asleep, successfully sequestered in their own corner of consciousness, alone, and unbothered. Untormented. I walked back inside, and just sat down, numb. I ranted, but the fire was out. I went to my parents and tried to explain how I was feeling, and I just broke down in my mom’s arms. My parents have never pressured me to be anything more than what my best produced. My expectations for myself surpassed those. Pressure to keep up the reputation I’ve always had. the thought of failure drove me to always be perfect, to improve exponentially in a short period of time. What I now realize, though, was that this constant fear of imperfection prevents me from making organic progress in a way that makes me happy, and that’s sustainable. This isn’t even the first time that I’ve allowed school to send me into panic. In my English exam in May, when interpretations of the text didn’t come to me immediately, I didn’t look at it from a different angle, I didn’t breathe and look closer. I completely panicked. The temperature of the exam hall and the temperature of my forehead were in a race to see who could go higher faster. “Palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy.” All of that. I had to leave the hall so I could collect myself. For the first time, I walked out of the exam room knowing that I had let my fear of failure prevent me from doing my best. If you can’t tell by now, this past year has been a very emotional one for me.
You may ask, then, that since I seem to be so hyper-aware of what exactly affects me, why do I allow it to keep happening? The reason is pretty simple. I’m conflicted. That same fear of failure I keep mentioning, and lack of belief in myself to make a substantial change prevents me from giving up this relentless pursuit of academic validation. Not excellence, because excellence can be viewed in isolation, validation. For myself and for others, that there is one thing that I’m good at, unquestionably. Even when I don’t know it for myself, that piece of paper, that PG, that trophy, that plaque, knows it for me. But these feelings are temporary, and before I know it, I’m no longer good enough. Ironically, this does actually seem to have positive effects. My consistent dedication to my academic career has given me opportunities, and a life that little Jus could never have even imagined. Especially now, my grades have led to others predicting a future for me that is so far beyond anything I could have ever imagined for myself. The future that seems to be calling me is one I thought was beyond my reach. So I allow myself to undergo this torture, because if I give it up, what will it cost me? It sounds dumb, because essentially what I’m implying is that I can’t achieve both academic and personal growth simultaneously. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but bear with me, it’s what I’ve allowed myself to grow to believe. I’ve placed myself in the middle of a tug-of-war between a force driving me to grow personally and emotionally, and another, equally strong force driving me to grow academically. I’m scared of not knowing what a life without constant fear of academic imperfection looks like.
I think I’ve answered the second part of the title, but the first part. Why “The System”? Well, it has two meanings. The first, more boring reason for including it is that I believe the system we grow up in today, is one that’s hyper-fixated on being perfect as soon as possible, as accomplished in as many things as possible, leaving no room for even a brief slip-up. Even though it’s imaginary, I know that so many others like me feel the constant pressure to be perfect. (Yes I’m in the college app process, how did you know?) The second, and the original reason for entitling this piece “The System,” is because of a book, gifted to me by someone I love, and who has helped me to realize a lot of what I’ve already written, which bears the same name. Ryan Gattis’ thriller, set inside the 1990s prison system of post-riots-LA, provides an amazing description of a toxic relationship. A relationship not in a romantic sense, but one built on a sense of duty. Wizard and Dreamer are two gang members, but Dreamer is going down for a crime that Wizard and another gang member committed. Being gang brothers, the two are bound by the invisible rope of duty. One of the most poignant passages of the book, which actually inspired me to write this, occurs right after Wizard calls Dreamer, just when Dreamer is beginning to lose himself in the monotony of prison life. It goes like this:
“And it’s a voice I recognize. One that makes my stomach fall out from under me…Wizard’s voice. One I’ve been missing. And kicking myself everyday for feeling it. A voice I thought I’d be better off without. Now that I’m hearing it again tho? It makes me happy somehow. And I don’t even know what to do with that feeling. It’s confusing as…”
When I read it, I couldn’t help but think about my own dependency on academic validation. Academic honours, the Wizard for this poor Dreamer, always seem to call with some amount of good news, just when I feel like I’m losing my self-worth. But what comes with grasping this news is the panic, the perfectionism that makes my stomach fall out from under me. But when I achieve what I set out to, the feelings I thought I was better off without manifest themselves into something that makes me happy. It’s confusing as…
Being academically motivated shouldn’t mean I neglect my physical and emotional health, both of which I’ve sadly done. My poor tutor says that I need to stop letting school affect my health, and while I think it’s more of a coincidence than a direct correlation, I don’t blame her for seeing one as connected to the other. Deep down I know that I shouldn’t sacrifice my time in the gym, or on the Promenade to study those flashcards, but most of the time, I do it anyway. But I probably would get the same result whether I did or didn’t put in that extra hour of ‘revising’ (where in reality I’m so burnt out that the extra hour didn’t even do anything).
My desk on any given day
I’ve realized that I can’t continue like this; I made a promise to myself that I will not allow myself to become as consumed with what I do in school ever again. Never. That means mental health days or even half-days. That means getting back into my best shape. That means not allowing my grades to determine my self-worth. It’s exhausting not being able to truly rest. I haven’t for 2 years. But I need it. That means turning to He who is greater than me when I need support. I can’t do it all on my own, but the good thing is that I have a Friend and Companion that is always with me in my time of need, and who has plans to prosper me and not harm me, plans that give me hope of a future beyond my wildest dreams.
I don’t usually bare my soul like this, but if even one person resonates with this, then I did what I meant to do. I feel like more people need to be more transparent about not having things all together because it’s unrealistic, and someone very smart taught me that showing our vulnerabilities leads to us finding the best people to connect with those vulnerabilities, making us stronger and more supported, knowing that we aren’t alone in this journey called life. TrusJus, I don’t have it all together. But that’s ok, I’m human.
Thanks so much for reading, enjoy the rest of your day, night, evening, whatever it is wherever you are.
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