Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been a perfectionist. I believed things could only be done in certain ways, which I’d like to say is a product of my parents expectations. Today, I’m still a perfectionist, only I find it to be more of a weakness than a strength. I find myself hating how much effort and work I put into every little thing, only so that I’m satisfied with the outcome. And, I find myself blaming my perfectionist nature on the way my parents raised me.
But lately, I’ve been thinking about the words of motivation and encouragement my parents gave me, and I found myself feeling confused. Yes, my parents would tell me to get As in school, but they never told me I had to be perfect. My dad would always tell me two words: be excellent. If I ever made a mistake, or told him that I wasn’t feeling confident about an exam, he’d say, “As long as you tried your best, it’s ok.”
I guess, as I grew up, I internalized these ideas of excellence and being the best version of myself, and confused them with being perfect. I found myself comparing my accomplishments with those around me, monitoring my grades closely, and worrying about how others perceive me. I saw excellence as something I’d eventually achieve in life, imagining that at some point in my life, I’d feel satisfied about everything I did, and I wouldn’t have to worry about doing my best because I’d be the best. I imagined excellence would be something tangible on the timeline of my life; regardless of how old I was, or where I was, I believed I’d reach a point where I simply felt content.
Then, around two years ago, I got diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, and found out I’m chronically ill. It was shocking, to say the least. I was always the kid that got sick often, but I never realized there were underlying health issues behind it. Getting my diagnosis didn’t change my life drastically, rather, it showed up in bits and pieces, sneaking up on me when I least expected it. My social life was impacted, my diet became strict, and my capacity (or lack thereof) to do basic things in life suddenly made me painfully aware of just how much this illness affected me. Thankfully, if the disease is managed well, it’s not life-threatening. That’s what I kept telling myself over and over during the first year post-diagnosis.
I loaded my calendar with extracurriculars and classes, forced myself to keep pushing even though I was sleep-deprived, stressed, and tired all the time. I thought, I can still do what everyone else can. I’d like to think there’s truth to that statement; after all, there are people out there with worse impairments and conditions that do pose risks to their lives. However, I was being unrealistic, placing heavy expectations on myself and hating myself for not meeting them. Every flare-up or bout of fatigue felt like a slap on the wrist, like life taunting me and saying you’ll never be excellent if you can’t even match up against normal, healthy people.
When I fainted for the first time during the semester, I got a reality check. No one had to tell me anything, I just knew then and there that I was chronically ill, and the journey to excellence would be slower and more challenging for me than it would be for other people. I learned that stress is what can trigger autoimmune diseases in the first place, and that I was just putting myself in more danger by constantly worrying all the time. I’m not going to lie, this sent me into a bit of a spiral, and had me wondering how I’d achieve excellence. Furthermore, I tried picturing myself in the future, finally successful and at my best, and my mind was going blank. It was no longer tangible to me, and then and there I learned that I’d never be satisfied with myself, regardless of how many accomplishments I had. If I couldn’t even picture myself at my most excellent, wouldn’t I be constantly chasing something I could never fully grasp?
“If I couldn’t even picture myself at my most excellent, wouldn’t I be constantly chasing something I could never fully grasp?”
Lauren Dias
I reviewed this thought over and over and came to the conclusion that I was indeed chasing after something that I could never catch up to. I was constantly planning for the future, leaving my present self in the shadows, forgotten. And through this exhausting chase, I’d gotten ill in the process. Measuring the distance between who I am and who I could be was the most painful thing I could do to myself. Yes, growth is important, but revolving my whole life around improving myself leaves me forever unfulfilled. I don’t realize how great I am until I’m feeling nostalgic, looking back on past versions of myself and thinking, “If only I could tell her that she was excellent, but just didn’t realize it.” But I can’t do that. It’s too late and literally impossible to go back in time and talk to my former selves. What is possible, however, is talking to my present self. I can start telling her now that she’s excellent, that she’s doing wonderful things considering all that she’s been through. In the future, I don’t want to regret the way I’ve treated myself in the past.
Reaching excellence, or finally getting to the stage where I’m the best, isn’t the point. It’s not worth focusing on someone in the future who I’ve never even met if it means disregarding my present self, someone who I do know and love. And she’s great. She struggles occasionally, sometimes due to her own mistakes, or sometimes due to her illness which is out of her control. She’s dedicated and passionate, she loves fiercely, and finds joy in the silliest things. And now, she knows that excellence isn’t dependent on what she’s done, but who she is. Excellence is already deep in her bones, and while she still has room to grow, she won’t abandon who she is now.