“Being perfect is boring, failing is fun.”  I’ve been reflecting on that phrase my roommate shared with me a few nights ago.  I had opened up quite a bit about my struggles with managing academic responsibilities with the expectations of my parents, in addition to whatever standards I have set for myself.  Unfortunately, “perfection,” or something close to it, is the end goal I’ve been conditioned to pursue throughout my academic career.  This has been farther compounded by the fact that I earned the title of the smart kid out of my four siblings (I even got the nickname “professor” for at least a year and a half).  Pair this with constantly having others comment on the excellence of your family and siblings, and now I’m not just chasing after perfection for my own sake, but to uphold my family name.   

Don’t get me wrong, I recognize that I’ve been extremely blessed to have school come easily to me from such a young age, and even to some extent now.  The problem with this however, is that no matter how much I’m struggling and how much I think my grades are slipping, they’re always maintained at the right level so that it doesn’t indicate that there’s anything wrong.  In reality, I’ve come to realize how much I’ve actually sacrificed to keep this up, like a thriving social life, mental stability, and hobbies, despite thinking that this was just the way I was as a person.  That everyone gets a little stressed with school, so I really wasn’t any different.  But that kind of thinking set me back a lot in realizing where something was deeply off.

So, in an attempt to step back and let go a little bit, I’ve tried to lean on others by talking about my problems and analyzing where I can make some sacrifices for the sake of my health.  This is a lot more scary than I anticipated, especially knowing that my parents will ultimately be the ones seeing the results of this semester over the break.  Still, I’m uneasy when thinking about their reactions if it shows that my grades actually have dipped.  I don’t want to be in the spot of having to defend my struggles to people who aren’t going to hear that.

In one conversation I had with a mentor, they gave me a lot to reflect on in thinking about setting my own boundaries.  I’m not responsible for the feelings and reactions of other people, even if they are my parents.  Even under their roof, I have the agency to set my own boundaries, protect my peace, and feel content knowing that I tried my best under the circumstances, no matter what they or even myself might try to argue.  It was an incredibly positive experience to have my struggles and labor validated like that, especially after a semester spent telling myself that all I had to do was try a little harder or manage my time a little better.  Balancing a heavy academic schedule while duping yourself as to how heavy of a mental burden you’re carrying is hard as hell, and I sincerely commend anyone who is resonating with this post right now.  Even if no one around you is recognizing your efforts and the silent battles you’re fighting, know that you’re not alone in it.  I really hope you can find someone to show that to you as well, even if that person is you.   

Here’s to embracing imperfection, I guess.