“ she’s a pleasure to have in class.

Always one step ahead, what could possibly go wrong?

words: Vivian Yang | design: Samantha Fuss, Dana Levine

It’s 9:30 in the morning. My legs fight to beat the speed of my racing heart. I try to make my walk to class seem effortless, keeping a straight posture while the unforgivable wind pushes me sideways and backward. One hand holding a large cup of iced coffee, the other shaking uncontrollably from the caffeine, and God knows what other hormones are rushing through my body. I watch as other students swiftly make their way into the classroom while I bite my cheeks until a faint taste of blood drizzles onto my tongue. I try my hardest to uncurl my tight fists to open my laptop, then immediately regret it as a dozen tabs from last night jump in front of my eyes. The internship applications, Excel sheets, half-finished Photoshop files, Indesign pages, threatening headlines, shopping carts, overflowing texts…the nausea is rising to my throat. Before I move another inch, I manically close all the tabs attempting to shove down my revulsion. By the time I finish my fourth class, I’ve beaten up my nails, pulled out a few strands of hair, and completely lost my appetite. I’ve never listened to the signs of my body begging for air. Because I wholeheartedly believe if I don’t keep going, I will never be good enough.

The cycle continues into the night, repeats the next day, and the day after until it becomes the norm. The thought of anyone peeking through my veil of “perfection” scares me more than any of the intrusive death scenarios I’ve made up.

The truth is, I didn’t become this person overnight. I’ve been like this since I was a kid. Growing up, I was known as the girl who was good at everything she did. I went to art camps, piano lessons, math classes, writing workshops, tennis tournaments, you name it-I’ve been there. When I would take the medals home, my parents washed me with words that felt like honey. My heart fluttered when they wore me on their sleeves like a decorated pin in front of their friends at dinner parties. The adult’s eyes would light up with jealousy, dressing up my parents with words like “only if my kid were as accomplished.” The high of hearing my teachers compliment me while feeling my classmates eyes glued onto my body is a euphoria that no drugs can compare. The validation from those who “love” me is incomprehensibly addicting. The more approval embellished the twelve-year-old’s frame, the more I internalized that my worth was intertwined with external validation.

It’s easy to live like this as a fourth grader, a middle schooler, and a high-school senior. The daily dosage of validation from those around me kept me in a loop, and I loved this life. My self-esteem was in equilibrium with the way others perceived me. I’ve established a flawless routine to keep my ego well-fed. However, being twentyone, the formula becomes more difficult with more elements added into the equation- friendships, relationships, future expectations, mental and physical health. Each time I steer away from the track I constructed so perfectly, I become so mean that I would use words I wouldn’t ever dare to speak to my worst enemy. I’m exhausted. Is a nod from them really worth the torment? There will always be one more trophy to claim and one more person to fulfill my lack of self-esteem. If you’re hoping for the end-all and be-all solution to break the cycle, there isn’t one. Growth happens when you celebrate the struggle. A good start is to get in touch with parts of yourself only you can access and ask: what is it that I’m really seeking? This conversation isn’t easy. You’re confronting subjects you’ve avoided your whole life and seeing in yourself in ways you’ve never seen before. Unlearning the deeply rooted ideals isn’t a linear journey, but one that’s twisted and turned. It’s so important to lean on those who truly love you. These are the friends that show up for you on days that are high and low, and accept you without the gilded armor. Of course, seeking help from others can be mind-bogglingly hard, since independence has probably been ingrained in your identity. However, let their patience remind you that you have all the time in the world, and it’s ok to try again tomorrow. When you embrace the parts of yourself that you’ve deemed unacceptable for so long, you will begin to see that you’re starting to attract people who just feel so right. Letting go of the past feels very much like a grieving process, it’s heart-wrenching. But isn’t that the beauty of being in your twenties? Figuring it out and all?