“You’re not perfect, get used to it.” This phrase hangs on the side of the fridge in my garage at home. These words, along with a few other slogans, have hung on that fridge for years on a pamphlet my dad picked up at work. Stuck on the side of the fridge, the pamphlet can go almost unnoticed, but not by me. Not anymore. I cannot count the number of times I passed by that sign without really taking it in. Of course, I read it more than a few times; and of course, I never thought I was perfect. But I don’t think I ever fully took in the magnitude of that statement. It wasn’t until last semester, my first semester of college, that the statement really hit me.
All my life I had strived for perfection. I knew I never could be fully perfect obviously, but I wanted to appear as close to it as possible. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, striving to be the best you can be is a positive aspiration. I spent my high school years working very hard. However, sometimes I feel like I took things too far. I would tear myself down if I got anything less than an A+. I found myself not even celebrating a 95 on an exam. Rather than focusing on the nineteen questions I got right, I would focus on the one I had gotten wrong. I spent hours of my time involved in extracurriculars that I didn’t like because I was obsessed with the idea of a perfect resume. Now, I still don’t think that any of this was a bad thing. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with trying my best and working hard. I’m still proud of my work ethic and what I was able to accomplish—there’s nothing wrong with ambition. I was doing everything I could to improve myself, but the problems were within.
I’ve come to realize that the problem came from my attitude, not my actions. I’m glad I put pressure on myself, but I’ve learned that my motivations were off. I should have been working hard to prove to myself I could do it, to develop a better me and to create a better future for myself. Instead, I worked so hard because I was afraid of not being enough. I was afraid of failure. I was afraid of not being perfect. I was exhausted. When I would talk about how much I had to do, people would just tell me to drop something; but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t drop something because that would mean I hadn’t mastered it. That would make me imperfect, and I couldn’t handle that. For the first eighteen years of my life, I was able to keep up this cowardly facade. I knew I wasn’t perfect because inside I was cracking under the pressure, but I couldn’t let anyone else know. I had to make everyone think I had it all together. I had to be perfect to the world. I couldn’t make a mistake. I couldn’t let people see weakness in me. Little did I know that this fear of failure was a weakness. It was a weakness because I never put myself out in a spot where I could be torn down by others.
Unfortunately for me (well, I thought it was unfortunate at the time but now realize it was quite fortunate) this perfection came crashing down on me when I started college. I knew college wouldn’t be easy, but I never could have anticipated how hard it was for me at first. I desperately missed my home, my parents, my high school friends and high school in general. I was struggling emotionally, which I tried to hide, but my biggest struggle came with schoolwork. I never thought college classes would be easy, but this was on another level. I was trying my hardest and working as hard as I possibly could, but I just couldn’t adjust to the college workload. I felt like my test grades were not reflecting how hard I was working; but no matter what I did, I couldn’t get my grades to go up. I tried to hold it in. I didn’t want anyone else to know how poorly I was doing because I was still trying to uphold that perfect image. I was also deeply disappointed in myself. I would cry alone by myself, not understanding why I wasn’t doing perfectly. I was putting in the work—it just didn’t seem fair. It seemed like everyone around me was understanding everything and was adapting to college much better than I was. I was feeling so defeated.
Finally, one day, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I was doing a physics assignment in the library, probably getting the question wrong for what felt like the hundredth time, and I just started crying. I couldn’t stop. I was embarrassed, but I couldn’t help it. I finally had to acknowledge to my friends that I was struggling, like really struggling in a few of my classes. Instead of making me feel bad for being imperfect, they made me feel better. They talked me through it, and they helped me realize that it was okay to mess up and it was okay to struggle. I wasn’t the only one having problems, and they truly helped me realize that making mistakes is okay.
It was freeing to admit that I was struggling with something. Keeping it in had made it too difficult to deal with. When I was trying to hold in that I was struggling, I put more pressure on myself, which made me do even worse. Realizing that it was okay to be imperfect was a game-changer for me. Even just admitting it made me feel so much better. With the relief from that pressure I had put on myself, I was able to focus and even do better in the class. Although I still didn’t do as well in the class as I was hoping for, I was able to learn from my mistakes and move on. I realized that falling down was a part of life. As long as I keep working hard and learning from my mistakes, I will be better off. Everyone struggles and messes up and does poorly at some point. I can’t be one hundred percent wonderful at everything, which does mean I am imperfect but doesn’t mean I’m not capable. I know now that I am allowed to struggle and show my imperfection, while still working hard and succeeding in other areas.
When I was home during winter break, I saw that old pamphlet hanging on the fridge. Finally, I understood. Not only is it okay to not be perfect, it’s better. It’s better to make mistakes because I can learn from them. It’s okay to let other people see I’m struggling because that’s a part of life. I really think, “you’re not perfect, get used to it” is a reminder lots of people at Notre Dame need to hear, just like I needed to hear it. School is hard, and it’s okay to mess up sometimes. Mistakes are a part of life. As long as you’re learning, that’s all you can ask for. From now on, I will continue to push myself and to work hard, but I will do it for myself. I will not be afraid to admit my mistakes. I will learn from them and I will do better next time. I will keep my drive but I will do it in a healthier way. I will do my best always; and, as long as it is truly my best, it will always be enough.
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