Grades were due to come out at 6 PM and I was glued to my school’s website with my finger hovering over the “unofficial transcript” button. It had been my hardest semester yet, but I knew that I had worked my tail off and would reap the benefits in just a few short minutes. Nothing could have prepared me for the sinking feeling the moment those letters appeared on my screen and proved me wrong. I couldn’t bring myself to stop staring at what seemed to be the evidence of my incompetence, still trying to come to terms with how this could have happened. And when I finally lay in my bed later that night, my mind flooding with insecurities rendering me incapable of falling asleep, I found myself thinking the two words that would haunt me ever since: “I’ve peaked.”
I’d been ahead of the curve since preschool. While my classmates were struggling with their ABC’s, I was saying them backwards for kicks. I was the only kid in my 3rd grade class admitted to my school’s gifted program without having to take the entrance exam. A research project proposal I submitted at the end of my sophomore year of high school was chosen for a collaboration program with Singaporean students. I traveled with my college’s Engineers Without Borders program to help build a well in Uganda last winter. My entire life had consisted of a cycle of setting standards for myself, surpassing them, and then raising them even higher. For the first time, I felt that despite trying as hard as I could, I hadn’t even met my own expectations. The overachieving days were behind me. And the disappointment was crushing.
“I’ve peaked” kept repeating itself in my head for weeks. It hammered against my skull, demanding to be let out. I spent my winter break holed up in my room – ignoring my family’s requests to spend the rare free time I had with them. I was terrified that my secret would come out. I was even more terrified that the moment it did, it would stop being the paranoid fear of an ex-overachiever and turn into reality. But when it finally happened, when “I’ve peaked” finally revealed itself to my boyfriend amidst a storm of yelling and tears, it only made me feel lighter. Letting someone in on the sentiment that had plagued my every waking moment only made me realize how much energy I was wasting constantly trying to tell myself that I was nothing special anymore. And that was even more disappointing than the belief that I’d peaked.
It’s the part of being a high achiever that no one ever tells you about – aiming for above and beyond and crashing before you can even reach it. Not only can we not pick ourselves up, we don’t believe that we deserve to. “You’re only human”, people have tried to reassure me as I refuse to cut myself any slack, replying with, “I know. But I was supposed to be better than this. I haven’t done anything to be proud of this year.” But this was the year I stared failure in the face, let it break me down, and then built myself up stronger and more ready than ever to press on and make myself proud again. Maybe I’ve peaked, maybe I’m only getting started, but there’s one thing I know for sure – I’m never going to stop trying to be the best I can be.
