I am Not a Number and Neither are You

I am Not a Number and Neither are You

My Slow and Steady Learning Process of Not Comparing Myself in the Competitive College Environment

After I finished my first semester of being in the business college at my university, I was completely overwhelmed by just about everything. Being in such a stressful and competitive environment was a new and testing experience. All of a sudden, everyone around me was an over-achiever, a top notch student. For the first time of my life I didn't get high GPA, and that to me was shocking. All around me were students who somehow managed to get almost perfect GPAs and already had impressive jobs and internships lined up. I couldn't stop comparing myself, and I felt like I was falling way behind my peers. To sum it up, I finished my first semester feeling like I had fallen completely short of my potential and was basically a ball of disappointment and discouragement. 

One night when I was feeling especially overwhelmed, I wrote the following segment in my journal.

*DISCLAIMER: in the process of expressing myself in this journal entry that I thought would remain private, I used a few descriptive words that I have changed to keep this post audience appropriate.

I'm overwhelmed. The reality of adulthood is slapping me hard across the face, leaving a heavy, encompassing sting of sadness. I feel like I can't do anything. I made a LinkedIn profile and I think that's what is bringing on this emotional onslaught. I don't know why but I feel so d*** incompetent. There are a million of other people exactly like me, and millions more who are way better than me. People who have way more motivation. I feel like I have none... I'm slow-cooking in this burning, destructive mediocrity. There's this recipe for so-called happiness, and its constituents are 1) don't compare, and 2) don't compete. But realistically, how are either of those things possible? Adding onto this, everyone blindly recites that GPA is not a measure of self-worth, but let's cut the BS here. Maybe, in the argument of subjectivity, GPA isn't a measure of an intrinsic sense of worth, depending on each person individually. But when it comes to study abroad programs, internships, JOBS, GRAD SCHOOL, all integral components in professional development and advancement, GPA matters so, so much. And there are so many people out there who have way better GPAs and resumes... and a more inflated likelihood of "professional success." It all feels so overwhelming because I feel like I'm standing completely still in the midst of a stampede of young 18 and 19 year olds in the rush to grow up and become successful lil' cogs in the corporate machine. It almost seems like a rat race, and arguably with no point, because most of us will end up in a cubicle job anyway. I'm so unmotivated for that... that's it. I'm not excited for the future. S***. The reality of that confession is like a reverberating, dark echo... it's scary. I'm scared. I'm so d*** scared. I'm in a paralysis. I don't want to grow up. I feel like I'm not gonna make up, and if I do, I'm not gonna be happy."

I wish I could go back and tell myself six months ago, on the night I wrote this, that I should take a breather. That it would be okay. That the GPA I saw was totally acceptable and that a stupid number wasn't the end-all-be-all for my potential as a future businesswoman. Or whatever I end up deciding to be.

That summing up my entire existence, my entire college experience, which is, by the way, chock-full of personal development and growth, and reducing it down to a GPA, is not only irrational, but downright ridiculous. It completely waives the fact that I came into college as a nervous, scared girl who dreaded the idea of college altogether and finished the year someone more confident than ever, and left with more self-belief, with more strength, with more aspirations. I met people who have changed my life forever and have offered me perspectives that have provided me with a new lens in which to view the world and myself, and that is priceless. I've been blessed with meeting people that reminded me that yes, I can survive that class, and yes, I am capable if I put my mind to it. People who helped me make it when I thought I might actually implode under the immense stress of my assignments and responsibilities. This year I broke out of mental barriers that I had entrapped myself in previously. 

And I am 100% confident that no GPA, no number, could ever describe these valuable changes in my life.

No GPA will ever shine light to the passions and interests I have, the things that make me get up in the morning, the things that put a skip in my step and incite in me an insatiable curiosity about the future and the possibilities that it holds. A number doesn't have the capacity to describe my quirks and my strengths and my weaknesses. The things that make me the person I am. A GPA will never add or take away from who I am as a person, or who anyone is as a person. And in our true selves and our true passions lie our potential, in my opinion. Not a GPA.

A GPA can't touch a heart or save a life. A GPA never fostered a meaningful friendship or relationship. A GPA never changed the world, or ultimately cultivated life's higher sentiments.

It's a number, simply a one-dimensional way to gauge academic performance. That is literally it. A number that is so often pegged as the ultimate decider of a person's capabilities and self-confidence. I know this because I have been there one too many times, especially the night I wrote that journal entry. On that night, I irrationally stared at what I thought was a bleak future all because I didn't have a 4.0. I let a number override the most distinguishing factors and traits and passions in my life and cloud my outlook of the future. 

It's taken a while and I am no where near the end point of this journey, but slowly I am learning to make my intrinsic sense of personal value completely independent from my GPA. And other useless arbitrary numbers, for that matter... like my weight. (Okay okay let me talk about this for a minute: I haven't weighed myself in months and it's been wonderful. Our bodies are biological miracles, a culmination of muscles and organs that enables us to live and be strong and do the things that we love. Why must we forget that and judge our bodies completely by a number on a scale? That form of judgement, for me, was the recipe for a distorted body image and terrible self-esteem for years, starting at the young age of 10. How sad is that?) 

In competitive environments, it's easy to lose sight of these truths. From my personal experience, over and over again in my 19 years, when I fall into the repetitive, destructive cycle of comparing myself, I am miserable. Because I am not paying attention to the most important parts of my life.

(Try and forget how flowery this next statement sounds and instead recognize the truth in it.) I have a goal that we all come together to empower each other to look past numerical representations of ourselves and instead encourage developing ourselves as passionate, unique individuals. That we stop boxing ourselves in with a one-dimensional number, and instead open the door to our unique potentials. Not only will this promote better self-confidence and mental health, but it will pave the way to a better world and future.

I Didn't Like My First Semester of College

I had a relatively great high school experience. It wasn’t always fun and games and smiles, but high school taught me a lot and it shaped me as a person. I faced a few personal struggles throughout those four years, but I am so thankful for them. Because of them, I garnered strength and self-belief and passion. By the end of my senior year, I was in a great place. I got involved in things I cared about and cherished friendships with a wide variety of people at my school. I fell in love with photography and continued to run my Instagram blog. I was planning trips for the future and dreaming about the ways I could improve the world and help people and do cool stuff. It was a time of thriving!

When I envisioned what I wanted my college experience to be like, I was optimistic. I was going to love my business classes and Spanish classes and make the Dean’s List at the end of the semester. I was going to meet a lot of people and have empowering conversations in coffee shops about politics and life and love and everything in between; gaining new companions and perspectives along the way. I was going to venture out into the city and do cool urban things and make an abundance of memories. I was going to spend hours studying in the beautiful library, getting smarter and sharpening my critical and analytical thinking abilities. My weekends would include passion-fuelled endeavors. And yes, at some point I was going to break out of my shyness and muster up the courage to ask an interesting boy out for coffee. (This is literally on my bucket list, believe it or not!) Beyond these things, I was going to spearhead some type of photography project, and continue Instagram blogging about healthy food from my dorm room. I wanted to get involved with student organizations that I felt passionate about. I wanted to immerse myself into the new environment and take advantage of every opportunity presented to me, because that’s what college is for, right? The bottom line was, I didn’t want to live the average college life.

I officially finished my first semester a few weeks ago. I’m now home for the holidays, and I have an entire month off. My family members have asked me, “Meghan, doesn’t it feel wonderful to be done? You’ve finished those hard classes and you survived finals week!” I fake a smile and say yes, but deep down I know this isn’t really true.

While finishing final exam week was great and an enormous weight lifted off my shoulders, I don’t really feel a sense of accomplishment over what I’ve done these past few months at all. Truthfully I’ve been a subdued version of myself. I didn’t get involved, I didn’t develop my passions, I didn’t reach my potential at all. And nope I didn’t ask a boy out on a coffee date. I lived very average—I went to class, studied a fair amount, slept, hung out with friends on the weekends. I didn’t step out of my comfort zone or grow much as a person. My camera sat in its case under my bed and my blender remained neglected. My past self would be very sad, arguably as sad as my current self right now.

(Oh, and I definitely didn’t get that spotless 3.8 I had been shooting for… oops. Turns out college academics are indeed much more difficult than high school academics!)

I don’t want to be a complacent, privileged girl who has some pretentious disdain just because she didn’t make the Dean’s List. I’m not naïve… Dean’s List or not, I am well aware that I am a lucky one: I am beyond blessed to have the opportunity of pursuing higher education at university, and I could not be more grateful. But this is the exact reason I’m unhappy with myself. How could I have this type of privilege and not take more advantage of it? To not study and intertwine it with my passions and do something greater than myself?

I’m allowing my disappointment in myself and my regret in my all-around mediocrity to act as a vehicle for how I’m going to change my college experience. Because if I leave this university in three-and-a-half years with nothing but a degree, I will consider my mission a failure.

Because I don't want to end this on such a negative note, here's a picture of some blissful banana ice cream that I made this morning: