When I was fifteen, I was having a conversation with my best friend, and we were trying to decide if we wanted to get an iced coffee to start our day. It was 2020, and due to the pandemic and all the spare time we all had on our phones, our activities were based on what was trending on social media. I asked her, “When was the last time you weren’t performing?” I wondered, when was the last time I got a coffee and didn’t think about someone else’s opinion, which in turn influenced my own?
I wasn’t sure of what I really liked because I was so used to accepting what I should like. Following others gave me a sense of security, to be in the aesthetic, and to try to follow what others were doing. And maybe it wasn’t so much about feeling better than others because I got a stupid coffee, but it made me feel normal – and it gave me one less thing to stress about, it made me feel like I fit in. I started to stress about always reading a room and the people in it, then changed my behavior accordingly, so I wouldn’t be judged just for being myself. I made it my goal to fit the molds put before me.
Fitting in, I feel, is the baseline for why I was performing for so long. I was constantly trying to keep up with the times and wear what I felt others were accepting of. I wanted to be able to relate, and therefore I merged into the relation of it all. I shifted my own perspectives and actions to what others did with their everyday lives. It may have had a little to do with the pandemic and the sense of a loss of control and norm, so I was trying to find normalcy in the mundane actions so many other people were also taking to feel okay in the uncertainty. I started to use social media a lot more and communicate with others on it. I started posting and performing in hopes of achieving some medal of honor of coolness. I followed what others were doing a lot, and with all that was trending, there was always something new to perform. But I had to keep up with the ever-shifting aesthetics, or it felt like I was behind, where I developed “fomo”.Â
I’m not sure exactly when I started wanting something different for myself, or when I got burnt out from it all, but I wanted to stop performing – and I started trying to figure out what made me comfortable and secure in myself. So, I began experimenting. I took a lot of inspiration from all my favorite things. Mamma Mia (my favorite movie) made me feel nostalgic, and I wanted to run around every day like Donna did and wear flowy pants. When I tried it, I found I felt really comfortable in them. I started being more vulnerable in my interactions with others, and I would express how uncomfortable I was with dishonesty. I looked toward what I was interested in, and I started making plans for my future, thinking about who I wanted to become and where I thought I would fit in the world.Â
I remember in high school they asked us to make a goal for our futures (and pick what we were interested in). At the time, I was most interested in people and the patterns that we repeat throughout life. I noticed we each return to things that hurt us, or how we are pulled to the things that we are interested in, and then we spend hours curating our special interests, so we fully understand them. Then, in turn, we understand ourselves. This pattern fascinated me, and I loved hearing about how others found themselves and their values. Who they were and who they are now, what they had been through, and how it had changed them. So, I decided that I wanted to go into psychology and further study how our brains work. Mainly because, no matter how many people I met, there were always drastic differences between us all, but so many similarities at the same time. Naturally, as a high school student in America, I then looked up the highest paying job within psychology, and I found psychiatry. From there, I created a plan to study psychology in college and go the pre-med track to become a doctor.Â
In college, I was going strong; I loved chemistry and all my psychology classes. I found myself infatuated with the way professors spent their whole life focusing on one topic, and with passion and knowledge, they would share their interests with us as students. But then I got to Biology II, and I walked into the first day of class, sat through the class entirely confused (as biology was not my strong suit), and left with a realization that I was still performing. I had a goal of success rather than primarily focusing on the joy of my future. I told myself that I didn’t need to be a doctor and decided that I could reach for what I truly want to do, being a talk therapist. I shifted my goals accordingly and gave myself some leeway, setting a goal toward a PhD so I could potentially become a professor in the future, and decided I didn’t (and couldn’t) know exactly what the future holds.Â
I decided that throughout all that I did and everyone I met, we were all performing along with the system. I committed to fully choosing myself – and working towards what will work for me. Then, stopped living only for my future and threw myself into the relationships around my community and me. I found the joy in my mundane and saw a deeper beauty in all around me throughout life. Performing to me now means I put my best forward and I redirect insecure thoughts that what I have to offer is not enough, to fully always try to give myself entirely in every aspect and inch of my life. While also focusing on filling my own glass in the process. Much of what I have gone through in my life, I am sure, has to do with age and growth, but through my appreciation of others and their minds, I have found an appreciation for my own mind and processes. Where, in turn, I stopped performing.