The more I was reminded, the more perfect I wished to be

Growing up, there are things our parents put us through. They are mostly good, but sometimes they are the only pedestals we give ourselves. My compulsive need for perfectionism started there, and I am looking to embrace imperfections, now more than ever.
I have always been sort of lucky in terms of health, skin, hair and other outward aspects. Deep inside, my mind has been a mess. My need to be perfect has made me do things that are now questionable to me. They weren’t required yet I had to do them, thinking about all the eyes on me, always pointing out my smallest flaws. I couldn’t write without thinking about the appreciation after, I couldn’t compete because if I lost, I would feel like I belonged nowhere. Life is difficult, but sometimes we make sure it becomes daunting to climb a flight of stairs that we once loved hopping on.

My sense of perfectionism started when I was in kindergarten. Looking back, I always wanted to get the recognition first, that gold star for finishing an assignment quickly. I was not an extremely bright student, I would do stuff just to be known as “that kid”. It started to fade when I realised what being interested in something felt like. I didn’t like certain subjects, my handwriting got worse once I stopped getting good remarks for it. I was questioned about it, but the questioning was more like “earlier you were good, I do not know what shifted”. I wanted to be her. That kid, who wrote neatly, studied well, got good grades but the reality is always different. I also had an older brother with whom I always had a sense of competition, although it doesn’t make sense anymore and I only want the best for him. Back then it was another benchmark for me, something parents tend to do, subconsciously, they are unaware of the fact that everything in our subconscious soon becomes our actions. I was not organized, and I didn’t argue when I had to choose an optional subject, a passion in life and a future, that I could never decide. It made me a people pleaser, just because I thought people were my driving force. I always wanted to impress, I agreed to people just to make them happy, and some random person’s attention carried my sense of importance.

I feel like there is no going back from here. The scrutiny that I grew up with, has made me lose my sense of pride and confidence, and most importantly, I sit every day trying to figure out who I am. I have lost the ability to retain my relationships with others because after a while there is only so much that I can agree with, there is only so much I can make them happy about. It is tedious and I wish I would have said no, fought back against things that did not make sense and had my own space in my head, instead of the constant noise that reminds me of my flaws. I wish I didn't have the need to hide from the mirror for every imperfection I see now, at 22. I wish I was allowed to be more of myself and I wish my thoughts were heard more while I was growing up because half the time I had this fear of being wrong and then becoming a reason for a laughing bunch.

I do hope to grow from this, and hopefully build myself up from the shatters I try collecting now.