Kyra R.
Photo provided by Kyra R.
If you're reading this, you don't need to be perfect to make an impact.
I think I’m harder on myself than most people. To say I’m a perfectionist is putting it lightly – my standards are so high that they can sometimes feel impossible. I won’t stop until each and every detail is flawless and there’s nothing left to improve. Sure, I can thank my OCD and my anxiety for this, but I can also thank years of gifted education, a fear of failure, and the belief that my worth is tied to my achievements.
My fear of failure is the most impactful, but it isn’t nearly my biggest motivator – that would be my fear of being forgotten, or in other words, not making enough of an impact. Being perfect is quite the motivator, but being impactful is my ultimate goal. The idea of an impact drives me forward and gives my efforts meaning. It's about leaving a lasting impression, making a difference, and creating a legacy that resonates long after I'm gone. I always felt as if there was no point in being perfect if it didn’t inspire beyond me, and I always felt like I had to be perfect to make an impact.
All of this goes to say – I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to be perfect. Let’s look at my last year of school: I took 18 credit semesters, I worked two jobs, I rushed a sorority, I became student body vice president, I started my mental health advocacy work, I gotten to attend conferences, give presentations on mental health resources, and I even earned a social justice award. It sounds pretty perfect, I won’t lie – and it was, for about six months, until I crashed and burned. In my pursuit of perfectly making the perfect impact, I forgot that I wasn’t invincible, and for the first time, I burnt out. Completely.
This past year brought about countless new opportunities, that’s undeniable. But more importantly, it brought about a breakthrough – that I wasn’t perfect, and that that was perfectly okay. It was ironic to me that I was the one stressing the importance of taking care of yourself, yet I had blindspots for my self-care. My fear of failure crashed down when I admitted my mental health was neglected. The panic attacks I tried my best to ignore for years became unbearable. I struggled to get out of bed. School became an afterthought, all to the pursuit of an impact. This story has a happy ending, though. These events got me into therapy, and my perspectives and views have been forever changed. My therapist has helped me tremendously with my perfectionism, and she showed me that even with the smallest of acts, I can make an impact.
Earlier in this letter, I mentioned that I always felt as if there’s no point in being perfect if it won’t make an impact. I guess that can be true, but it’s not what I want you to take from this. There’s no point in being perfect if it leads to constant stress, anxiety, and dissatisfaction with ourselves and our accomplishments. There’s no point in being perfect if it consumes all our time and energy, leaving little room for self-care, relaxation, and enjoyment of life. There’s no point in being perfect if it prevents us from being vulnerable, authentic, and open to the messy, unpredictable nature of human existence. And there’s no point in worrying about being perfect, either. Because you already are. Exactly as you are.
The moral of the story is this: I tried my hardest to be “perfect,” because I thought that was the only way I could be impactful. But just by being me, and following my passion and ambition, I realized that showing imperfection was the most impactful thing I could do.
Kyra R., Kutztown University of Pennsylvania
