Comparison Of My Standards And Expectations Of Society

1370 Words 6 Pages
Each society has its unique standards and expectations, but it feels as if the expectations of the society I grew up wove these beliefs within me: if I’m not perfect—it ultimately translates into the fact that you’re useless. If you do not receive good grades, or you’re not some math prodigy, you’re irrelevant. In a world fulfilled with talented individuals, I often wondered to myself, How will I ever be different from everyone else? How will I manage to survive in this society without being exponentially smart?
Growing up in this type of stressful community, every single mistake that I made was not considered as a lesson I should learn from, instead were needles stabbing my heart, and the stinging sensation never leaving me. Ranging from
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I knew I wasn’t like the other kids. I wanted to stand out. I wanted to be unique.
To achieve being accepted as a naturally gifted entity, I had studied for hours for a particular test that determined if I had the knowledge and the skill to go to a gifted school. I had the confidence that I would pass the test with ease.
I made my way to the entrance of the school in which I was taking the test at; I could see kids holding heaps of books, reviewing the test-prep questions for the test we were all taking. I entered the room, relentlessly, and the sight of the environment was chilling. Within this tight area of space, I could almost feel the determination and tension amongst each individual in the classroom. Everyone that was taking the test had their eyes fixated on the door, analyzing each person that walked in. I could see the same reaction written on each person’s face that walked in that very door. They felt intimidated, just like I was when I entered through the door minutes
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It was at that moment where everything just seemed so unfair to me. Why, just why, can’t I be perfect like everyone?
It took me a while to find out that because of these gruesome thoughts that continued to taunt me, day and night, I struggled with insomnia constantly, as there was absolutely no possible way of me going to sleep with the thought of me not being perfect. Skipping meals on days became a routine for me because of my unhealthy obsession with being perfect.
However, perfectionism was not only affecting myself but also affecting my family as well. Every day, my mother had to undergo through the routine of having to look at me in agony, having to deal with coaxing me, although I would, often times, not listen to her advice. I didn’t have the heart to take note of everything my mother had dealt with up until the point where my mother herself, started doing the same things I was: not going to sleep, not eating enough, and constantly having to worry about her imperfect

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