When I was 21 years old, like most young people, I thought I had it all figured out. On paper, my life looked like the blueprint for early success. I had just graduated from college with a dual degree in only three years, secured a job straight out of school, and bought my very first house. To the outside world, I was a high achiever running smoothly toward a bright future. People constantly complimented me on how well I had my life together at such a young age.
Yet, behind closed doors, the reality was entirely different.
Anytime someone complimented me or told me they were proud of me, I would cry. Not just a few tears, but uncontrollably. At the time, I chalked it up to transition fatigue and the natural stress of moving from college into adulthood. But looking back, those tears came from a place of deep internal conflict: I knew I was making mistakes, and I was terrified anyone would notice.
While everyone wanted to focus heavily on my public achievements, no one paid attention to what else was actually going on in my life. I was in an abusive relationship, surrounded by people who definitely did not have my best interests at heart, and entirely consumed by what I thought I was supposed to be doing, rather than what I actually wanted to do.
Ultimately, my anxiety didn’t stem from a lack of motivation; it came from being utterly scared to fail.
Fear of failure was at the very root of all my issues. I became so incredibly scared of failing to fit the rigid perceptions of others that I completely failed to protect the most important person in the entire situation: myself.
High achievement can easily become a mask for deep struggle. When we value the perception of success over our actual well-being, we lose our true selves in the process. True mental wellness requires us to look past our resumes and acknowledge when our environments, relationships, or expectations are pulling us under.
Why do people feel such intense pressure to have it all together? Think back to the early 2010s. When I got my first smartphone, platforms like Instagram and Snapchat were exploding. Everyone was obsessed with curating the perfect Pinterest boards or chasing the “Tumblr Girl” aesthetic. As social media use has expanded, so has everyone’s need for social comparison. Suddenly, everything became about appearing perfect.
Growing up in a world where everyone’s life is perfectly curated makes it easy to forget that formatting a life isn’t the same as living one. We treat our lives like feeds to be edited, rather than experiences to be felt.
I love the life I’ve built for myself today, and I won’t pretend to have it all figured out. If you are currently crying through the compliments, know that it’s okay to admit things aren’t perfect. Stepping away from situations that harm you isn’t failure; it’s the very first step toward reclaiming your life.