It’s that time: New Year resolutions have been made, classes are restarting and real life is refusing to let us stay in our little holiday bubbles (so rude). For lots of students, this transition comes with the dread of trying to adhere to a certain schedule and promising themselves that they will be more organized, that they will actually use that planner that’s been untouched in the dark recesses of their backpacks for months and will stick to a workout schedule that involves more than sprinting to class after pressing snooze 11 times.
And then there’s me.
I am the Queen of Plan Land, seriously. I meticulously schedule my days, calculating just how long I need to workout and get ready, when and what to eat, how much time I should allot for homework and when I should do it considering my class times, meetings, internships, etc. Leaving something up in the air is simply not an option (unless you like the idea of sending me into a spiraling anxiety attack…).
Quite often, this is seen as a good thing. People comment on my discipline, wanting to know how I stay on top of everything, laughing as they say they wish they could do the same. I laugh right along with them, sputtering off something about how I’ve always been this way, how they should totally invest in a planner because mine has been a complete Godsend.
But my smile is hollow, my laugh forced because I can see what they cannot: the limitations my perfectionism places on my life, the damage that it causes.
They see extreme discipline in my academics and internships, outlining each assignment, studying for hours on end, prioritizing my studies and work over everything. That seems good, right? Not necessarily.
What they don’t see is the severe anxiety, the intense fear of inadequacy, which drives my discipline. They can’t see the way my chest squeezes tighter and tighter, my hands shaking, my heart pounding in tandem with the incessant thoughts beating against my mind of not being good enough, of not measuring up, of failing to be the best.
They don’t see the damage done to my relationships as I choose over and over again to stick to my workout schedule instead of grabbing a bite with friends because it's easier than fighting the guilty thoughts that badger me when I miss a workout.
They don’t see how my friends eventually stop inviting me to study at the library after I turn them down time and time again to stay home and study alone because I “study better that way.”
They don’t see the inside jokes and memories I miss out on because I obsess over being the absolutely perfect intern, opting to spend hours on tasks I need to complete and agonizing over the times I mess up.
They don’t hear the true voice of perfectionism; it does not encourage me to be my best, to grow my potential and be all that I want to be. No, the voice of perfectionism is my own, my inner critic whispering affirmations of my incompetence, of my weakness, pointing out each and every flaw that could result in failure.
It tells me over and over again that I will never measure up, no matter how hard I try, and in the meantime, it takes away the things in my life that truly matter.
So this time, I won’t be joining in on the getting-my-life-together train that follows the start of another year.
This time, I am choosing to fight back.
I am choosing to be a “yes woman,” to be spontaneous and truly live in each moment, instead of spending it carefully planning out the next.
I am choosing to embrace that life is crazy and messy, that there are times to plan and times to go with the flow, that I will succeed in some cases and monumentally fail in others.
And that’s OK.
After all, life is always an adventure. It’s about time I start living it.