I have always wanted to be the best at everything. I'm not really the best at anything. Quite a conundrum, no?
Well, perfectionism is inherently flawed.
It pains me to say it, because admitting as such is ugly in a spiritual and metaphysical sense, but I have always wanted to be the most talented, most attractive, most hilarious, most kind, most intelligent person in the room. Ironically, I also always wanted to be the most humble, solely because humility is an endearing trait. I am, 100% of the time, never any of those things. Sure, I can crack a joke now and then, but I'm no professional comedian. I run every day, but I'm no athlete. I'm decent with words, but I'm not exactly the valedictorian student of my graduating class. I'm not hideous, but I'm not exactly a model, either - and that certainly won't get any better as the years go on. I realized my perceived inadequacy at a very early age (as most people do) but it did not stop me from trying to be the best.
I've come to terms with it, at first painfully, but then peacefully. Allow me to elaborate: what at first was a personal failure has become a realization of personal worth. I don't have to be "the best" - nobody does. I realized this over time as relationships with various people came to an end. Reflecting on the relationships I've had - those of friendship, those of rivalry, those of teamwork, those of love - each one brought something into my life that was distinctly unique to that person. Their essence, or their soul, or whatever you'd like to call it, was an almost tangible presence. It was distinctly identifiable, but not in a way you could immediately describe with words. It didn't matter if these people were the best at anything - they were giving to the world just by being, and their presence was appreciated (or unappreciated, in some cases) based largely on their attitude, character, and intrinsic worth as a human being. What took me a long time to realize was that I was a part of that intrinsic worth. Our souls sung a song with each other. A gathering of friends was a symphony of souls. A night with a lover was a serenade of souls. What is hardest to understand is that part of what makes a person unique is in what they can't do, what they don't do right, and what they do better than you. If everyone was singing the same note, we wouldn't have any symphonies or serenades. We'd have a blazing disaster of a performance, one where everyone is blaring the same sound, not unlike the high, annoying buzz of a broken electrical appliance or the incessant ringing of a fire alarm.
Of course, it is still good to strive to be better. A better athlete, a better comedian, a better writer, a better scholar, a better worker, a nicer person. Striving for greatness is great. Obviously.
But it's ok if you don't end up being great. And being the absolute best? Forget about it.
As I write this post, I call to mind a soul I met at one point in my life who resonated with me very strongly precisely because of their burning desire for perfection. I could tell, almost immediately, that they, too, wanted to be the best. Always, all the time, at everything. They wanted to be admired as a the pinnacle of beauty, the pinnacle of intelligence, the perfect social butterfly, the model who sat on their throne above all others and served as an example of perfection to everyone else. As I came to know them better, I realized more fully that this person's perfectionism stemmed from a deep, deep desire to be loved and admired, and an even deeper fear of rejection. I won't mention their name, or when and where I met them, on the 0.0000001% chance that they may read this and recognize that I am talking about them. But I wish every day that this person will realize and accept their intrinsic worth. Even moreso because they were better than me at everything.
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