Date: 13th Jan 2020
Perfection. A simplistic idea where everything is complete and correct in every way possible. An idea we as humans, seem to spend our lives frantically chasing. Looking for the perfect relationship, the perfect body, the perfect school, career, child, friend, house, dog... perfect anything and everything.
I used to chase this fantasy too. I spent my time at college trying to be this perfect student with the perfect grades and the perfect image (of not caring about what other people thought of her), with the perfect smile and perfect attendance. I never bothered to chase the perfect body because I knew deep down, no matter how hard I tried, "perfect" in that sense, was never achievable. But I would drive myself insane over the marks I got back, would study myself into the ground, work on something till my fingers were covered in either blood or blisters - or sometimes both. And when I didn't get the perfect grade, I would spend hours wondering what I did wrong, wondering why my best wasn't good enough. I would waste countless hours stressing over the marking boundaries, over analysing every word I wrote, wondering if I would ever reach this impossible goal I set myself, this impossible idea to be this perfect - in every single way - student.
At the time, trying to reach this impossibly high expectation I pushed myself towards seemed like a good idea. I wanted to impress these bunch of uncaring, unhelpful, unenthusiastic tutors, to show them I was better than their dreadfully low expectations of the only home educated young adult on their course. I wanted to prove to them I was perfect, that I was nothing other than the best and in trying to do so, I not only proved to them I was anything but perfect but I ended up causing myself immense mental harm...
Looking back it's becoming clear to me where my anxiety and depression probably stemmed from. I think being in this stifling environment, with all these really negative views thrust on me because of my background - and lack of a so called "traditional" education - and these bunch of tutors who had no desire to be there, or teach or really even cared about their students well being, was so unbelievably bad on my mental health. Being there for a few months would have impacted on anyone's ability to think positively about themselves, being there for two long years and dealing with a lot of personal things going wrong one after the other, being alone 5 days a week, surrounded by people who didn't really see you and having nobody looking out for you, would have killed even the strongest persons self worth and happiness. It really was like being stuck in a negative vacuum that was gradually - unbeknown to you - sucking all the joy and hope out of your system until you finally began to believe all these things these so called tutors would say about you.
It's taken me nearly 6 months and one whole term at a really positive, supportive drama school, to start to see that the place I used to call my second home; this place where I thought I was surrounded by these people who really cared about me and who wanted the best for me but who led me on down the road of mental anguish and hurt me time and time again, was not, in fact, a positive place but instead was place full of mental abuse and pain.
I'm starting to realise my college - who I really wish I was in no way associated with - wasn't this happy go lucky, dream fulfilling place full of caring tutors who just were busy and who just didn't have time to stop and ask if I was ok... I'm instead starting to realise this place was a place full of jealous, cruel people who could have found time to see if I was ok, but actively chose to not do so and instead watched me fall into a pit of darkness and only when they realised they could turn this into something worthy for them - IE when I got accepted into RCSSD - did they actively start trying to piece me back together. But by then it was too late. I had seen through their actions and seen that place for what it really was and I wanted nothing to do with their campaigns.
I refused to be plastered on their Facebook page as their "poster child", to be this amazing young woman who got into one of the best drama schools (with NO help from them - not that they would have said that! ). They wanted to tell the world they helped me get into Central, they wanted to praise me, plaster me everywhere, claim my victory as their own, they wanted me - who they had ignored for the last year and a half - to be their brilliant, happy, "we're amazing" statistic. Yet another fantastic student who got into someplace incredible. they wanted me ,as this statistic, to help them bring other students into their college, to allow them to keep their jobs - which they really don't deserve, because as I mentioned in the last post, TUTORS NEED TO CARE ABOUT THEIR STUDENTS AND WANT TO TEACH THEM! These people on Performing Arts wanted me to sign over my own hard work to them. And when I didn't, they acted all hurt and tried to convince me that they really did care.
In the end I didn't have my face plastered on their Facebook page, I stayed true to my word and didn't let them claim anything I had done for myself as their own. I merely allowed them to say 100% of Production Arts students got into universities - which is true, we did, just 1/5 of them, did it WITH NO HELP FROM THE TUTORS! I allowed them to state the truth - or their version of truth - but with no mention of my name or my personal victories. And I don't regret it.
I know now that by chasing this idea of perfection, I kinda allowed myself to be lead down this road - with the help of the tutors - because I wanted to prove to them I was better than their expectations. It's not entirely their fault, I mean they should have stepped in sooner, they should have cared enough to check I was actually ok, they should have fought harder for me to stay on Performing Arts and not to have changed to Production Arts like I did. These tutors should have noticed I was struggling when I was not being myself, when I was crying in corridors and wearing long sleeves and jeans in the middle of summer. They should have noticed my smile becoming strained, my clothes hanging looser, the fact I was constantly tired, not eating, hurting myself and not performing as well as I normally did. And they really should have noticed when I started to fall asleep in lectures, when I stopped drinking the coffee I normally survived off and when I stopped turning up to lectures or turned up late or turned up like an hour early. But if they did notice something was up, they didn't do anything about it. Even when I somehow plucked up the courage to tell them what was happening, they really didn't do much, nothing really changed. They simply carried on as normal, overloading me with work, disrespecting me, allowing me to do reckless things and ignoring the increasingly growing amount of silent panic attacks and self loathing.
But if you ask me if I hate these people, I would still say no. Yes they hurt me and ignored me when I needed someone most but I don't have the energy to waste hating these 7/8 people who are stuck teaching students who don't want to be there, in an underfunded, unenthusiastic, grubby, middle of nowhere college. They're suffering enough if you ask me. I escaped, harmed but I'm now free. These tutors don't have that option, they're still chasing this idea of perfection and will always be chasing it because they can't, or won't, accept that perfection - no matter how hard you try or how many people you hurt trying to reach it - simply is unattainable.
My idea of perfection now, is being ok with who I am, perfection is learning to relove me, scars and all. Perfection is being the best version of me I can be, even if that is the me in tears, or the overly chatty me, or the me who leaves lectures or the me who turns up to lectures an hour early. I realise now that perfection is a personal thing, you can't be someone else's version of perfect - I tried that and it didn't work. I can only be my own version of perfect and so long as I am happy and looking after my mental health and doing my best every. single. day. I will gladly accept that version of perfect, because that version of perfect, I can achieve. I can be my version of perfect and be happy. I can be both and nobody else has to suffer because of it.
I'm now in a place where I am safe, surrounded by love and care. I'm no longer alone. I have my version of my perfect body. My perfect friendships. My perfect education. My perfect career ahead of me. I have my personal perfect, utterly amazing, full of joy, happiness and love, life. And no college - no matter how much they scream and yell - will ever get to claim my victories, my happiness and my success as their own.
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