My golden suit wore off- what now?
At 18, when I attended therapy for the first time, my therapist told me to jot down a list of reasons that made me worthy. In a rather depressing manner, I was only able to list 3: I’m smart, I can sing, and I think I’m a good person. If pity were a face, it would be the therapist’s as she looked at my tiny list and asked: “how about you are worthy, because you are human?” This was a lot to take in. The thought that I had been worthy from birth hadn’t even crossed my mind.
All my life, I had been considered an ‘asset’ to those around me. The 14 years I spent in primary and secondary school were filled with constant praise. Nonetheless, when I arrived at GW and saw I was just like the rest of the intellectual omnivores in the university’s honors program, my once golden cape started to look more like a camouflage jacket. I had some deep self-analysis to do. Who the hell am I without an ‘A’ stamped on my face?
These frequent existential crises all add up to one simple reality: I spent so much time trying to please others that I didn’t make time to even develop a sense of self. At 21, I find myself aimlessly grabbing at anything that can give me any sort of revelation about who I am. I constantly change my wardrobe or my Instagram feed because I do not know what my style is. I jump from music genre to genre trying to uncover what my true taste is. But most importantly of all, I yearn to love myself- and to be loved- for simply being me.
Yes, I want to be an adult with real attainable goals. The poster child in me still wants to change the world for the better. However, I want to live my life in the most authentic way possible. I want to fall in and out of love, and go through heartbreak as I listen to Taylor Swift with a glass of wine in my hand. I want to start new adventures and fall into the unknown, even if I fail. I no longer want to be scared of the future and failing others- because to maintain my role as a golden child would be to fail myself.
Truth is, there is a certain sense of liberation in acknowledging the fact that I am completely clueless about who I actually am. For once, I enjoy the feeling of not being a poster child and sitting in my tiny twin bed figuring out what life is. I am tired of maintaining an image of perfection, even if that comes at the cost of losing my oh-so grandiose stream of praise. I don’t know who Maria is at this point of life, and that is okay.
I’ll eventually figure it out, but in the meanwhile, I’ll be enjoying my 20s…no golden dresses allowed.