Pressure and Perfection

I've been giving a lot of thought to these two words lately.  Particularly that second one: perfection.  This is an idea that I have struggled with since I was very young.  I remember feeling like a failure when I got a B+ on a progress report in 6th grade because of a low grade on a group test.  And spending hours stressing over the little details on a biology project in 9th grade.  And being completely crushed when I wasn't "good enough" or "perfect enough" to make yearbook editor or dance company my senior year in high school.  And feeling very ordinary, very average, very "unperfect" surrounded by thousands of intelligent, beautiful, spiritually strong young men and women at BYU.  In a very real sense, I attached my sense of self-worth, my own value, to how well I measured up to this abstract definition of "perfection."  It's something that I have worked to change, but something that I have by no means mastered.

Lately I've been thinking though - where does this intense "pressure" to be perfect come from?  After giving it a lot of thought, I came to the conclusion that for me, the pressure comes from within.  Now wait a second, some of you may be thinking.  But the media tells you that you have to be a size 0 and have a perfect job and make lots of money to be successful.  And church culture tells you that you need to always do your visiting teaching and visit the sick and read your scriptures faithfully everyday without fail and have your two year supply of food storage ready (and the list goes on) to be successful.  And BYU culture tells you that you need to be married by 21 or at least be going on dates every weekend to be successful.  That's a lot of pressure!  And that's not you - that's everybody else.  Yes, that is true.  And those messages might be coming at me all the time.  But ultimately the messages would carry no power if it were not for what happened when I received them.  I immediately start comparing myself to others.  To that girl who is two years younger than me and already has a baby.  To that boy who raises his hand in Sunday school to talk about the incredible spiritual experience he has had.  To that girl who has better grades than me, goes on dates every weekend, and by the way, is gorgeous too.  That is where the pressure comes from.  Who is the master at these comparisons?  At showing me how to compare my weaknesses to someone else's strengths?  At helping me feel that intense pressure?  Yup, the master of deception: Satan himself.

People often talk about the pressure you feel at BYU to be perfect.  In my experience, Satan always hits me the hardest at the times when I have the most to learn, the most to grow.  He hates those moments in my life. Those moments when I learn to rely on the Savior for strength.  Those moments when my testimony grows by leaps and bounds.  Perhaps this is one explanation for why that pressure becomes so intense at BYU, coupled with the fact that you are surrounded by thousands of intelligent Latter Day Saint young men and women to compare yourself to.  I left BYU a much different person than when I entered there as a freshman.  I know it was the right place for me because I believe that the growth I experienced there would not have happened anywhere else.  That makes it the perfect place for Satan to attack me, to try to tear me down.  And one of the strongest tools he has is the "pressure to be perfect."

I've realized that what it comes down to is faith in God's timing.  Looking back now, I can see that perhaps it wasn't what I needed to be on dance company or to be yearbook editor.  And let's just say that I don't have to take off my shoes to count the number of actual dates that I went on during my four years at BYU.  Some girls like to provide two possible explanations for this: either there's something wrong with me or there's something wrong with the guys.  We've already looked at the dangers of the first.  The second is often an easy explanation to cling to, but I would like to introduce a third option.  Maybe it's about timing.  Maybe the lessons that I needed to learn, the relationships I needed to develop while I was at BYU were better served by me being somewhere else on a Friday night than sitting across a table from a boy at Pizza Pie Cafe.  Perhaps those "girl's nights" or late night chats with roommates, or hanging out at the pool with people from the ward, were exactly what I needed.  Perhaps there are lessons I still need to learn before I enter into that world called marriage.  Perhaps I am exactly where I need to be right now.  I don't know.  I don't have all the answers.  I am nowhere near "perfection" right now.  But I do know that I am trying to do my best.  I have faith that I'm on the right path and trying to move forward.  Some days I get to sprint forward.  Other days it's more of a slow crawl.  And others I stumble backwards and it's all I can do to just stay put on the path.  I don't know how or why, but I do know that I am where I need to be.  And I have hope and faith that there are amazing things in store for me in the future.

Joy

 Little did I know when I wrote that last post how quickly I would get some news that once again knocked me down in the race of life.  I have never lost a close friend so close to my age before.  The first day or so I was in shock.  I still can't believe that I am never going to see that smiling face in this life again.  Never going to have one of those late night chats that I loved.  Never going to hear that contagious laugh.  Never going to taste that delicious cooking that most people thought was too spicy, but I loved.

This week I've had the chance to reflect on my memories of Melissa Joy Dietzel.  Melissa was constantly making us laugh.  She had a talent for taking everyday moments and turning them into memories you'd never forget.  She always assumed the best in everyone that she came in contact with, choosing to see the good in the world.  I am so grateful that she was such a big part of my life for two years.  I couldn't have asked for a better friend or roommate.  And I am so grateful for the knowledge I have that I will get to see her again someday.  I can't wait to get one of those incredible hugs, laugh with her, and have one of those late night chats again.

As Courtney and I have been talking about our favorite memories of Melissa, there was an overarching theme: Joy.  It is only fitting that her middle name describes her so perfectly.  Life was good when Melissa was around.  She could make me forget my troubles and find the joy in life.  This is how I will always remember her: as the happy, friendly, genuine, caring friend that she was to everyone that she came in contact with.  I can't wait to see her again.

Get Up and Win the Race!

A man who spoke in sacrament meeting today read a poem called, "The Race."  This poem was one that I first heard five or six years ago, as a laurel.  I loved the poem at the time, but I had forgotten about it until today.  It always amazes me all of the little things that my Savior adds to my daily life to let me know that He is there and that He loves me.  Reading this poem over the pulpit was a relatively simple act, but today it spoke numbers to me about how much the Savior loves me, and that message could not have come at a better time. 

The poem is kind of long, so I won't include the whole thing here, but if you'd like, you can read it here.  The poem is about a little boy at a race.  He desires to come in first place to make his dad proud.  He starts off the race at the front of the pack, right on pace to win; however, he comes across a dip in the path and falls flat on his face.  While he's humiliated, he realizes that he can still catch up with the others.  In his hurry to catch up, the boy falls two more times.  Each time the boy rises again and keeps going, at the father's encouragement to, "Get up and win that race."  Even though he comes in last place, the boy's father says, "To me, you won.  You rose each time you fell."

I can relate to this boy in so many ways.  Last year at this time I kind of felt like the boy at the beginning.  I was right on pace to "win the race."  I was about to graduate from BYU - something that I had dreamed about since I was really young - in a field that I had truly grown to love.  I had submitted applications to grad schools and I had high hopes that I would be accepted to continue to my education at BYU.  When I did not get accepted into BYU, it was like the first time the boy fell.  It was devastating and kind of humiliating, but I soon realized that it was something that could be overcome.  While it was not what I planned, I could still catch up and "win the race."

My first semester of grad school provided a few more stumbling blocks.  I felt like I was knocked down several times, but each time I was able to get up and keep going with relative ease.  This semester has been different.  I've had some internal struggles that I have never dealt with to this degree before.  It often feels like as soon as I get back up, something is there to knock me down again.  I often start to question if I can keep getting up, if I really am strong enough to keep going.

In the January 2012 Ensign, President Monson said, "Sometimes courage is that little voice at the end of the day that says, 'I'll try again tomorrow.' "  This simple message is one of great hope for me.  Everyday is not going to be perfect.  I'm going to fall.  Then get up and fall again.  But the important thing is that I keep getting up, keep trying to go forward, with faith in Christ.  This poem today helped me realize that this is not something I am doing on my own.  My Heavenly Father, my Savior, my family, and so many others are there to help me, "Get up and win that race."