Growing up, I would sit in classrooms with teachers that would always push me to do my best. They would heavily encourage hard work and would reward good grades. As a kid, I would do my best to finish my multiplication table in under two minutes in order to win a piece of candy. As a teenager, I watched as this desire shifted from physical reward to an emotional one. My priority became making those around me proud: teachers, peers and family. I felt as though success would be a way to please the people I cared about in a way that I had sole control over. You see, I couldn't change the weather or a person's personal stresses, but by working my hardest and impressing them, I figured I could make them happy in my own special way. As an adult, I realized that this need to succeed has developed even further. Instead of feeling the pressure to earn a reward or make others happy, I feel the majority of pressure to succeed from myself and for myself.

I was blessed to grow up in the household that I did. Raised by two loving, compassionate and always supportive parents, my best was always enough. They never demanded perfect grades or a stellar performance. All they asked was that I give my all because they never wanted to see me upset over something that I may not be the best at. If I struggled, they wanted to see effort rather than perfection. Because of this kindhearted encouragement, I could never dare to claim that they ever placed any pressure on my shoulders. Their guidance lead me to become a student that complained about grades that others would gladly take. I do this not to brag, be dramatic or act like I am better, but I do this because I feel as though I could have earned better. It took me a long time to figure out why I was so disappointed in grades that I should have been proud to call mine. In the end, it clicked that I simply expected more from myself.

That realization lead to another: the pressure I felt to succeed came from my own mind. The people around me, especially my family, were all so incredibly supportive and proud of all of my accomplishments, even if I saw them as disappointments instead. I set my standards high and sought to not only achieve them, but also blow them out of the water. During my experience in high school, I was able to do this very easily. I thrived in this environment, but felt a change in college. Deciding to challenge myself by taking courses in areas that I had little or no experience in, I found that I was not as naturally inclined in these fields as I was in others. Obviously, I struggled. While the grades I earned were certainly not something to be disappointed in, I was devastated .

This was the first time that I had not reached the standards that I had set internally for myself. My expectations had not been met and I did not know how to cope. I had people surrounding me doing their best to remind me that I could not be perfect at everything, that everyone had strengths and weaknesses, that these grades were things to be proud of, especially with how hard I worked and that I could not let this struggle impact me. Please don’t get me wrong I wasn’t failing out. Most people would be happy with what I found disappointing. It was ALL ME. Learning to listen and trust the beliefs of those around me was one of the hardest, but most effective things I have ever done. I still put a lot of pressure. I am still that little girl that works for her candy, but now I have begun to realize that not all expectations can be humanly met. I am still doing my best to learn this lesson -- I still frequently let "poor" grades bother me -- but I have to constantly remind myself that all I can give is my best. My best is something to be incredibly proud of.