Perfectionist!

From Expanding Your Horizons

My name is Robin. Basically, I'm a GATE (Gifted and Talented Education) student who plays the flute in Honor Band (and although I'm sometimes called a show-off, they're just jealous ;) If you don't show it, you might not realize that you know it!). Along with being good at academic stuff like that, I do have a life outside of school. My friends know me as a kind, funny, dependable,and wacky girl! I love reading, writing, music, ice skating, and hanging out with my friends. But I'm not just typing this wiki about myself-I am also a perfectionist, and if you are overwhelmed about being perfect, this is the place for you! So if any other perfectionists want to give tips and life stories too, then you guys are welcome to add stuff underneath mine, but please don't edit other people's stuff unless it's a misspelling or something.

You know how it is, being a perfectionist: you always pressure yourself to be perfect, and get disappointed if you aren't. I have been a perfectionist for ages. When I was in kindergarten, my elementary school would "bench" you, or confine you to a bench for some amount of time if you misbehaved or didn't follow the rules. I don't really know what I did wrong, but I think it was a misunderstanding and I wasn't really part of it. But whatever happened, I was benched for the remaining five minutes of recess, and after school, I broke down and told my mom about what happened through sobs and tears trickling down my face. In first grade, I started karate with a friend, but I eventually dropped out. My mom says I was being too hard on myself, and I was taking it all too seriously. I guess she was right-I cried if I couldn't get a kick or a punch right! In fourth grade, we had a "money" system, where you would get money if you did something good like completing your homework and you lost money for things you did bad, like forgetting your name on a paper. I lost $1 from forgetting my name on a paper, and blinked back tears as I turned away. Fifth grade brought letter grades. I mostly achieved A+'s and As, but even A's were still not enough, and a B+ was just too hard for me to handle: even though I only got one, and that was the worst grade I got that year. I'm in 6th grade, and earlier in the year, I got a B+ and cried over it. The funny thing is, my life is pretty good: I have all the neccesities of life and lots more!. I get good grades, my family is together, and I live in a safe community. So why did I always want to be perfect?

Then came the turning point in my perfectionist life. I love to write, and when my teacher reccomended me for a writing contest, I was excited. But I had writer's block. Finally, after about a month, I had an idea: I would write a story, called "The Spice of Conflict," about a perfectionist who gets a chance to live in a "perfect world," away from her B+'s, her mean teachers, and her family problems. She has a bad day (Everyone has their days), and as she cries, alone in her room, a benevolent alien brings her to his perfect world. She relives that day through a hologram, and at first, she loves everything perfect. But near the end of the "day," she begins to feel that something is wrong. There was no conflict, no challenges, no obstacles to overcome. So in the end, she decides to go back to her old life, and she sees everything in a different life. At the end of the story, she is content, and decides that "life just isn't life without the spice of conflict." This story didn't just help the girl in the story: it helped me to come to terms with my perfectionist life. Now, I have gotten 3 more B+'s, but it doesn't matter as much anymore. If you are struggling with trying to be perfect, just remember, life just isn't life without the spice of conflict!

This is my story that I wrote, in case you don't know that.

The Spice of Conflict by Robin _____

A B+. A big, red, circled B+ at the top of my paper. How could this happen? Everything had been going perfectly, as I wanted, before this. I would not accept anything short of an A! I blinked, but it was still there, staring menacingly back at me. My vision blurred and the ink smeared as a lone tear dropped. Frantically I rushed to the bathroom before anyone could see my watery eyes. Then I broke down. I sunk into my own little world, brooding in a stall, when the bell jarred me back into reality.

As I walked back, the few sharp-eyed kids who had seen tears leak out of the corner of my eyes teased me about being a "crybaby" and a "wimp" as I rushed back to the classroom to retrieve my belongings. But as fast as I ran, I was still late for the next class and realized I had forgotten my homework. At lunch, I was running to get out of the halls before a teacher caught me in the boundaries; not only did I really get it from the strictest teacher on campus, I tripped over a fallen branch and my lunch was ruined. To top it all of, my homeroom teacher held me in after school. It couldn't get any worse than this, I thought. But when I got home, the world went crashing down around me. A bigger conflict than a B+ was suddenly dropped upon me. They expected me to accept it?

"We're getting a divorce." Before I could react or think it through, my mom added "We think it's for the best." With those words, the tension broke. I tore through the halls into my room and flopped on the bed, still in denial. I could hear my annoying little brother tattling to my parents that I slammed the door and my parents shouting at me, but those were drowned out by my complaints.

"My stupid, imperfect life sucks! My parents are getting a divorce, my grades are low, I don't have any friends, and nobody cares about my feelings! " The hateful words spewed out of my mouth in a waterfall of fury. Falling back onto the bed, my head banged against the wooden frame and I gasped as a whirlwind, a vortex of color swept through my consciousness and sucked me into its depths. But I didn't care whether I lived or died. It was all the same to me. My last thoughts were thoughts of hatred and self-pity as the neon colors faded to black.

<Greetings, Earthling.> A disembodied voice boomed through my mind, jolting me back into alertness. I looked around to look for the source of the voice, finding myself in a completely different world-nothing like Earth. The voice continued, explaining that he was a benevolent alien who had heard my complaints and brought me to his perfect world. A perfect world? "Is there even such thing?" At first I was skeptical: It seemed to good to be true! But as the alien had me relive the past day through a hologram, I realized he wasn't lying. As the holographic images unfolded in front of my eyes, I watched and relived what would happen if I were to stay in the perfect world.

When I got up in the morning, even though I hadn't gotten enough sleep, I was refreshed and energized. My brother wasn't up yet, and I had enough time to shower and eat a hearty breakfast before I raced my new friends to school. My usually crammed locker had more than enough space for everything I carried, and I chatted with my friends before class. When I got my test results back, it had an A on it, even though I had written all the same answers. My teacher seemed much nicer than before, and would even go out of the way for me. In the next class, no matter how badly I did on anything, I would still get an A. The school lunches even improved! When I got home, my brother, who was suddenly nicer and less annoying, and I played a round of unlimited PS3. My parents were happy and always agreed with each other.

At first, it was great! But at the end of the day, I felt that something was terribly wrong, but I couldn't place my finger on it. Then, while lying in bed after a marathon session of computer, I realized it.

It was too perfect. There was no conflict, no challenges for me to overcome. Though the peace was wonderful and I got whatever I wanted, I was so used to the shouting matches at my house and the missing homework that my teachers lectured me about. I even missed my annoying little brother!

As the hologram faded, the unseen alien must have sensed my emotions.

<Is something wrong?> His voice was almost tender, caring. I spilled out my feelings to him. He explained that I had a choice.

<You don't have to stay here for the rest of your life. You may choose to stay here, in a perfect world, or go back to your imperfect, conflicted life.>

It seemed as if he was trying to convince me to stay. And for a while, I wanted to. It would be easy to just give in, to live a perfect life without a care. But it would be too easy. There would be no challenges if everything was just how you wanted it. And what is life without challenges?

"I don't need to stay here. Not everything needs to be perfect: it's the little things in life that make you happy. Life just isn't life without the spice of conflict." I had made my final decision.

The alien smiled, or at least it seemed this way: the alien's voice softened as he spoke. He paused, then concluded, <Goodbye, Earthling.>

The same swirling vortex of color wrapped around me, but I was not doubtful or scared, or angry and hateful. I knew life had a purpose-to overcome obstacles, and through the conflict, it would make me a better person.

I was deposited back in my bedroom. It seemed as if no time had passed, but I knew otherwise. But since I was back in my old life, all the conflicts seemed magnified and overwhelming. What would I do about the divorce, my grades, my social life, everything? But before I could sink back into my own little world of self-pity, the sensible, mature part of me saw all the wrongs in my life in a different, more positive light. Everybody has bad days, but if you try your hardest to make the best of things, you can turn the whole situation around. Even if things aren't perfect, life is still life, and you only get one.

I ran out of my room and hugged my parents and my brother. It had been shoved to the back of my mind through hatred, but I realized it-I loved them, for all their flaws. I loved myself and my life, too. No matter what life would toss my way, from divorces to B+'s, I was ready to face a new day.

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Was that an insult to MY work??? Well, I got over it! And I don't usually brag about myself! Come on.