There is so much negative energy that surrounds the word ‘perfectionism’. Growing up, I was always referred to as a ‘try-hard’ and often told that my efforts would never be enough, indicating that giving up was better than failing. However, what drove me to erase and rewrite my name countless times also became my superpower. ‘Perfectionist’ began to sound more similar to ‘hard-working’ or ‘determined’. The new mindset assisted in my development of an impassioned voice. School became my obsession and I built my life around being a flawless student. Get-togethers were replaced with homemade flashcards and friends with all A’s on report cards. Hours of studying were unsuccessful in filling the gap that grew with the procession of losing myself in a meaningless scramble for points. I was the bully that set myself up for self-destruction. I plunged myself into various extracurriculars. The stack of goals skyrocketed and stress set in. As a control freak I ventured to control the uncontrollable, my body. Paralyzed by my imaginary standards I turned to cross country to assist me in my journey. My determination pushed me through every obstacle the sport threw at me. On the first day of practice I was already on varsity. I had never received personal recognition for my athletic performances in the past. I basked happily in the newfound attention. In the midst of personal records and runner’s high my body began to become exhausted. I became so wrapped around the idea of my appearance that there was no more room in my head space for other things. Burnt out me dreamt of what I was once capable of. Still, I endured the labor and my zest for life slowly dwindled. A hurricane of anxiety would be the result of an ‘off day’. My identity became associated with exercise which swallowed my personality. School projects and strangers often brought up the question of, “What do you like to do, or what do you do in your freetime?” ‘Running’ seemed like an appropriate answer at first, until it became my only answer. Turning up empty handed after racking my brain for any sort of small interest I had besides physical activity made me feel like I was merely just existing. The sport of cross country had become a form of release for me but I had gone too far as to disconnect myself from the outside world. Perfectionism was my form of self-abuse. Hard-work is what sent me and my team to Cross Country State, perfectionism is what hindered my speed. Ditching ‘perfect’ was my choice to be authentic and loved instead of flawless and worshiped. I now clench onto hard-work and strive for progress instead of cowering at the thought of failure. Time off from running has taught me that it is more fulfilling to push yourself physically instead of forcing yourself. I desire to have a life that is navigated by my passions, may I find more while I live imperfectly.

There is so much negative energy that surrounds the word ‘perfectionism’. Growing up, I was always referred to as a ‘try-hard’ and often told that my efforts would never be enough, indicating that giving up was better than failing. However, what drove me to erase and rewrite my name countless times also became my superpower. ‘Perfectionist’ began to sound more similar to ‘hard-working’ or ‘determined’. The new mindset assisted in my development of an impassioned voice. School became my obsession and I built my life around being a flawless student. Get-togethers were replaced with homemade flashcards and friends with all A’s on report cards. Hours of studying were unsuccessful in filling the gap that grew with the procession of losing myself in a meaningless scramble for points. I was the bully that set myself up for self-destruction. I plunged myself into various extracurriculars. The stack of goals skyrocketed and stress set in. As a control freak I ventured to control the uncontrollable, my body. Paralyzed by my imaginary standards I turned to cross country to assist me in my journey. My determination pushed me through every obstacle the sport threw at me. On the first day of practice I was already on varsity. I had never received personal recognition for my athletic performances in the past. I basked happily in the newfound attention. In the midst of personal records and runner’s high my body began to become exhausted. I became so wrapped around the idea of my appearance that there was no more room in my head space for other things. Burnt out me dreamt of what I was once capable of. Still, I endured the labor and my zest for life slowly dwindled. A hurricane of anxiety would be the result of an ‘off day’. My identity became associated with exercise which swallowed my personality. School projects and strangers often brought up the question of, “What do you like to do, or what do you do in your freetime?” ‘Running’ seemed like an appropriate answer at first, until it became my only answer. Turning up empty handed after racking my brain for any sort of small interest I had besides physical activity made me feel like I was merely just existing. The sport of cross country had become a form of release for me but I had gone too far as to disconnect myself from the outside world. Perfectionism was my form of self-abuse. Hard-work was what sent me and my team to Cross Country State, perfectionism was what hindered my speed. Ditching ‘perfect’ was my choice to be authentic and loved instead of flawless and worshiped. I now clench onto hard-work and strive for progress instead of cowering at the thought of failure. Time off from running has taught me that it is more fulfilling to push yourself physically instead of forcing yourself. I desire to have a life that is navigated by my passions, may I find more while I live imperfectly.

There is so much negative energy that surrounds the word ‘perfectionism’. Growing up, I was always referred to as a ‘try-hard’ and often told that my efforts would never be enough, indicating that giving up was better than failing. However, what drove me to erase and rewrite my name countless times also became my superpower. ‘Perfectionist’ began to sound more similar to ‘hard-working’ or ‘determined’. School became my obsession and I built my life around being a flawless student. Get-togethers were replaced with homemade flashcards and friends with all A’s on report cards. As a control freak I ventured to control the uncontrollable, my body. Paralyzed by my imaginary standards I turned to cross country to assist me in my journey. My determination pushed me through every obstacle the sport threw at me. I had never received personal recognition for my athletic performances in the past. In the midst of personal records and runner’s high my body began to become exhausted. I became so wrapped around the idea of my appearance that there was no more room in my head space for other things. Burnt out me dreamt of what I was once capable of. A hurricane of anxiety would be the result of an ‘off day’. My identity became associated with exercise which swallowed my personality. The sport of cross country had become a form of release for me but I had gone too far as to disconnect myself from the outside world. Ditching ‘perfect’ was my choice to be authentic and loved instead of flawless and worshiped. I now clench onto hard-work and strive for progress instead of cowering at the thought of failure. Time off from running has taught me that it is more fulfilling to push yourself physically instead of forcing yourself.

There is so much negative energy that surrounds the word ‘perfectionism’. Growing up, I was always referred to as a ‘try-hard’ and often told that my efforts would never be enough, indicating that giving up was better than failing. However, what drove me to erase and rewrite my name countless times also became my superpower. ‘Perfectionist’ began to sound more similar to ‘hard-working’ or ‘determined’. School became my obsession and I built my life around being a flawless student. Get-togethers were replaced with homemade flashcards and friends with all A’s on report cards. As a control freak I ventured to control the uncontrollable, my body. Paralyzed by my imaginary standards I turned to cross country to assist me in my journey. My determination pushed me through every obstacle the sport threw at me. I had never received personal recognition for my athletic performances in the past. In the midst of personal records and runner’s high my body began to become exhausted. I became so wrapped around the idea of my appearance that there was no more room in my head space for other things. Burnt out me dreamt of what I was once capable of. A hurricane of anxiety would be the result of an ‘off day’. My identity became associated with exercise which swallowed my personality. The sport of cross country had become a form of release for me but I had gone too far as to disconnect myself from the outside world. Ditching ‘perfect’ was my choice to be authentic and loved instead of flawless and worshiped. I now clench onto hard-work and strive for progress instead of cowering at the thought of failure. Time off from running has taught me that it is more fulfilling to push yourself physically instead of forcing yourself.

There is so much negative energy that surrounds the word ‘perfectionism’. Growing up, I was always referred to as a ‘try-hard’ and often told that my efforts would never be enough, indicating that giving up was better than failing. However, what drove me to erase and rewrite my name countless times also became my superpower. ‘Perfectionist’ began to sound more similar to ‘hard-working’ or ‘determined’. School became my obsession and I built my life around being a flawless student. Get-togethers were replaced with homemade flashcards and friends with all A’s on report cards. As a control freak I ventured to control the uncontrollable, my body. Paralyzed by my imaginary standards I turned to cross country to assist me in my journey. My determination pushed me through every obstacle the sport threw at me. I had never received personal recognition for my athletic performances in the past. I basked happily in the newfound attention. In the midst of personal records and runner’s high my body began to become exhausted. I became so wrapped around the idea of my appearance that there was no more room in my head space for other things. Burnt out me dreamt of what I was once capable of. A hurricane of anxiety would be the result of an ‘off day’. My identity slowly became associated with exercise. The sport of cross country had become a form of release for me but I had gone too far as to disconnect myself from the outside world. Ditching ‘perfect’ was my choice to be authentic and loved instead of flawless and worshiped. I now clench onto hard-work and strive for progress instead of cowering at the thought of failure. Time off from running has taught me that it is more fulfilling to push yourself physically instead of forcing yourself.

"If you are referred to as a 'try-hard', others are merely jealous of your hard work and determination," -Thorner. When I was growing up I was often mocked by other students who downplayed any effort I would show in a required task such as a school progress. Mocking words such as 'perfectionist' used to get me down until I realized that the only difference between me and those that made fun of me was that I put in more work. Now I think of the insults as unintentional compliments.