Pressures We Put On Ourselves

Throughout our lives, we seem to put emphasis on situations and irrelevant obstacles that happen as we get older. In elementary school, we focus on playground crushes and elementary school dances. Middle school is a reign of popularity contests and end the end no one really wins. We partake in subconscious competitions and compare in places we think we have to compete, when in actuality we do things, not for us or self-improvement, but to impress others we don’t even care about.


In middle school, there were 14-year-olds giving hand jobs and going to parties my mom wouldn’t dare let me see. There were sexual expiates in the restrooms and guy and girl sleepovers in homes parents barely stayed.


As a 14-year-old in middle school, I was curious as to why certain people did certain things. I often wondered what happened at the homes of my more “popular” counterparts and why they behaved as they did.

In high school, I dealt with the pressures of being in a long-time relationship for at that time what had been four years and when his friends were having sex and in his mind, it was time he had gotten his share, someone who I once had a great friendship with and who I thought had understood my boundaries no longer cared.


The pressures of having sex and going to parties, drinking with people who care nothing about you and what to drown their sorrows with alcohol and numb their pains with marijuana, that was never me.

Now in college, the new craze is being ‘thick” and having Instagram looks to please the world and get approval from likes and retweets. We're constantly check our phones for updates, Snapchats for who has viewed our stories or screenshotted our “baddest bitch” picture.


I’ve had pressures to get tattoos and piercings, try dating sites and grasp the attention of strangers from Instagram likes. I’ve had pressures to buy weaves and wigs because for a long time my curls and kinks weren’t “pretty enough."

I’ve been made fun of for my giraffe legs, but have won pageants because of my gazelle walk.


As a 20-year-old now, I realize every pressure that I have faced, every head I have turned, and every naysayer that has spoken down on my look, because it wasn’t right for them, I would have told elementary me “don’t worry about those girls who bullied you for your legs, wear your skorts and dressed and strut.”


To Middle School me, “don’t worry about that “best friend” who wanted your man, but still would smile in your face and hate.”.


To High School me, “if that boy wanted you before or anyone for that matter, they will keep you around in all your glory and pure radiance no matter who says what.”.

I figured out early in high school that I didn’t have to make other people happy, however, I have recently learned how to apply it.