“Butterfly in the sky, I can go twice as high,” echoes in my ear as the upbeat Reading Rainbow theme song awakes me from my dreams. I need as much positivity as possible when waking up at 6 in the morning, three to five days out of the week. And one time through the high volume song is enough; I’m up, out of bed, and off to the gym in a matter of minutes. Individual practices consume most of my mornings, an addition to my three hour team training at night. Still it isn’t enough if I want to achieve my dreams. I need countless hours of training because one day I will be in the Olympics. I will become the best indoor volleyball player the world has ever seen. It’s true, at eighteen I’m still holding onto my crazy kid dreams. Because I strongly believe in perfectionism, a mentality continually bringing me desired success.
I stay humble, believing there is always room for improvement, since times are forever changing. I strive to be number one, never settling for anything less than the best. I aspire to be the best athlete, student, future spouse and mother, coworker, and so on. I am restless knowing someone else is out there, right now, working harder in volleyball, preparing to kick my butt.
But I don’t want to be misleading; my obsession for perfection is also my weakness. I have trouble getting anything done. Completing any task and actually being satisfied with it occurs on rare occasions. My stress level is always off the charts. I was the student in high school who absolutely loved doing projects. Finally teachers were giving realistic and feasible time requirements to create a masterpiece. Unfortunately life isn’t made up of projects and I don’t have time to redo them over and over again.
I do realize believing nothing is ever good enough may be preventing me from being relaxed and content. And along with my dire need for perfection, I am guilty of casting unrealistic expectations on to others, more specifically onto any hope for a potential relationship I might end up in. A close friend calling it fairy tale love, mocks the ideas and notions I’ve collaborated from a collection of chick flicks and romance novels. For example, I am waiting for prince charming to sweep me off my feet. The sad part, I am saying that with no hint of sarcasm or exaggeration.
My idea of a perfect relationship is unrealistic, I’ll admit, leaving me embarrassingly lonely in the love department. But I’m in no rush to fall into real love or give up on my beliefs. They have served me well so far and are my only directions for functioning. One day I’ll change, maybe, and I’ll focus less on being perfect, but until then I am opting to live with unnecessary stress and agitations at any sign of imperfection.
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