Growing up with both my mom and dad in the military, I knew there were lofty goals I was expected to meet.
In elementary school, I made perfect grades on vocabulary tests, practiced my multiplication on the way to the bus stop and was in the “gifted” program. In middle school, I cried because I got my first B in sixth grade language arts. In high school, I took AP courses, applied to top colleges and wore myself out with hours spent studying and working on papers.
My wake-up call came by way of Laverne Cox, the first transgender person to be nominated for an Emmy Award, who spoke last year in the Great Hall of the Student Union. She said something that really hit a chord with me — that in order to avoid or repress negative feelings, she would pour herself into achievement.
Wow. That sure hit close to home, especially while I was spending that semester in hours of late rehearsals, countless meetings, and long, dragging study sessions. My brow was permanently furrowed and my room a constant mess — a physical representation of how my brain felt because I was pushing myself to a breaking point.
She made me realize that I was living for the future at the expense of the present. This is also pinned onto my quote board on Pinterest, but that does not make it any less pertinent or true.
Granted, it was this achievement-based, forward-thinking thought process and way of life that got me accepted at UNC, but it doesn’t always brings out the best in people.
My identity became the things I accomplished. I did not identify myself with the things that I love, my friendships, or my character traits, but by the titles I held: President, Founder, Chair(wo)man, etc.
I was never satisfied with what I had accomplished. Once I accomplished one goal, I’d immediately look toward what achievement to tackle next, rarely giving myself time to enjoy my own victories.
Then there was the new feeling of being average, which did not sit well. My freshman year, I left Holly Springs feeling like a big fish in a small pond. When I reached UNC, I quickly realized that everyone had received just as many awards and titles as I had in high school. I was average. The thought of not receiving the highest honors and getting the best grades was not something I was used to. My response — to push myself still harder — was anything but healthy.
