Today, I fell asleep in the middle of eating dinner. My parents and little sister had the great idea to leave me alone — my nose and lips touching the top layer of my stew and my loose hair plastered on a bowl of sticky rice — until I woke up from inhaling stew up my nostrils. I can still taste beef broth through my nose. FML
Yes, that was my own little version of an entry one would often see on www.fmylife.com, which features a whole bunch of “daily mishaps and embarrassments,” submitted by users from all over the world. The short anecdotes are supposed to make one cringe, chuckle and think, “Huh, my life isn’t too bad after all.”
But unlike most of the anonymous faces behind those hilarious and sometimes cringeworthy stories, my entire life is one huge FML moment. That’s not to say I’m unappreciative of how privileged I am — of course I’m thankful. Do I have a roof over my head? Three meals a day? A college education? Loving parents and siblings? Financial and emotional support from them? Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes.
So then what’s to talk about?
My unbelievably high stress level. The crazy amount of stress that’s literally dragging me down.
I’m a full-time college student, editor, student government leader, student representative, musician, daughter and sister. For goodness’ sake, I’m also a 4.0 honors student. I have tried so hard to arrive where I’m at and now that I’m here, the burden of feeling obligated to live up to everyone’s incredibly high expectations is quite frankly, suffocating.
People expect me to be an exemplary scholar, crank out amazing stories on a set schedule, be a skilled and outgoing student leader and representative, practice my French horn at least two hours every day, be a helpful kid to my parents and a caring sister to my younger sibling and maintain my perfect GPA, all while exuding a cheerful, positive vibe.
By all means, I could just throw everything up in the air and say, “To hell with that.” Problem is, I hate letting people down. I have an innate fear of disappointing others. I hate feeling unworthy.
Now don’t go assuming my parents or siblings instilled this sense of angst into my heart — they didn’t. In fact, they’ve always advised me to take things slow and dig deep, rather than assume a whole load of commitments that eventually will swamp me. Although I knew everything my parents told me was good and true, I never took their advice to heart. I mean, how could I? My peers worked really cool jobs, were involved in every other club on campus and visited Guatemala or some other destitute country every summer to teach English or help build shelters.
Insane, huh?
This is the sad reality I, and millions of other college and college-bound kids live in. We sacrifice sleep, family time, friendships and even ourselves in order to be better than the person standing next to us. Heck, even the people we call friends are ultimately the rivals we face in the race to win limited resources. That’s the obvious case of life, but I’m sick and tired of trying to catch up with those who are “ahead” of me.
So quit telling me, “Hanna, everything’s going to be just fine. You don’t even have to study for anything—you’re just too smart. Oh, we all know you’re a good writer. We believe in you.” First, I work my tail off for my grades. Second, I always try to turn in the best illustration of my writing skills, which takes a terribly long time and a whole lot of endurance. Third, don’t believe in me, please. Thanks for holding me in high esteem, but please refrain from placing such a colossal load of stress on my shoulders — I may underperform and become a letdown.
It’s now past 12 in the morning and I still haven’t started writing my second story, which is due later today. My younger sister is sitting right next to me having a grand old time listening to music and finishing up her homework. Which reminds me, I haven’t started reading the chapter assigned for homework for my political science class. Ugh.
I’ll probably be able to go to sleep at well-past 3 a.m. today. It will be quite the challenge to keep my eyes open during Associated Students’ budget deliberations later on this afternoon.
And come dinnertime, I’ll probably fall asleep and snort beef broth up my nose again.
FML
