I have a slightly different topic today.
Last Friday, I underwent some testing that included a detailed history of my whole life, from birth to now (well, as best as I could recall it or piece it together). I’m having an unexpected reaction to it and I want to share some of that with you.
I was precocious. I did everything early – walk, talk in whole sentences, etc. I was in gifted and talented programs all through elementary school. I was on a hardcore science track from 6th through 12th grades. I got into a competitive selection program for research science in High School. I was kind of a slacker so I didn’t personally do a Westinghouse project, but I certainly had the opportunity to do so.
Then, when I got to college, I thought I was going to go pre-med. I dove into Honors Chemistry and that was the semester I slammed directly into a wall of suicidal depression. I swapped to computer science, and pretty much failed at that, too within 1 semester. Ultimately, I scraped through 4.5 years of university and earned my B.A. degree by the skin of my teeth. My GPA was high enough to graduate, and low enough not to guarantee me entry back into the same school for any kind of graduate program.
The doctor who was doing my assessment was like, “What was your major in college?” I told her it was Philosophy. She said, “Wait. Hold on. Back up. I wrote it down but I don’t believe it. Why philosophy?” I explained the whole situation, with the mental health aspects and the previous trauma and all the everything, in brief terms. Freshman year was basically when my life began to fall apart around me.
But I’ve been ruminating about it for almost a week now, on and off. In some ways, I failed. I failed to “live up to my potential”, whatever that means. I had such opportunity at my disposal and I took it for granted and didn’t seize it by the horns. I let it pass me by, and I think I feel the emotion I most despise: regret.
I’m not actually disappointed in where I am right now, though. I have a loving, awesome family (both of origin and of choice). I have a successful career (that I keep panicking about losing, to be honest) where I make “enough” money. I have active hobbies where I make a difference. Objectively, my life is pretty freakin’ awesome.
But, I have this intense, internal drive to grow, to do better, all the time, to the point that I can hardly relax, or really be grateful for what I have RIGHT NOW without a thought for the future being better or worse or indifferent.
It’s exhausting. And I hope I didn’t infuse my kid with it.
I have to keep telling myself: I am enough. I am worthy of love, from people in my life and from myself. I am only human and have limitations that other people have and some that other people mostly don’t have. I don’t want to be egotistical, but I’m routinely reminded that my half-assing is a lot better than a lot of other people’s whole-assing.