A Night In

My success defines my sense of worth. It is my identity in my own mind ... the validity of my being is reliant upon my ability to rise above others. I limit this definition of success, however, to that which is quantifiable and capable of direct comparison. Numbers are an integral part of my self-affirmation- such is why grades and clubs appeal to me so much.

The parameters I place upon success inherently limit that which may ultimately be considered worthwhile. To be a good son, a good brother, or a good friend are all things which I strive for, but usually as far as I am not made guilty by poor performance. I will rarely go above and beyond; I am far more likely to sustain satisfactory behavior so that I may avert consequences that would otherwise result in embarrassment or disappointment.

As I work to obtain success, to achieve grades and levels of performance that others will not match, I am finding myself inexplicably drawn to recurring thoughts. The idea that this work is not actually fulfilling. The notion that I am becoming increasingly lonely, even as I attempt to reach out to close friends and spend more time with them. And, on a somewhat frightening level, the reality that I will sacrifice anything that does not directly contribute to the success I defined above. If something is not part of my grades or resume, it will never be able to achieve top priority in my life.

It is not even a question anymore. There is no ambiguity to what I will do or the choices I will make on a day-to-day basis. I will wake up, work until I am through, and sleep. Only if the work ends will I consider doing something outside of these activities. Such is the reason why practicing, seeing friends, or just hanging out stop happening as the semester rolls on. The work builds up, and I rise to meet it because that is what I must do. Failure, or anything less than top performance by comparison, is unacceptable.

I am lonely because I do not like to let people see me vulnerable. I do not share my feelings except with those I trust the most, and even then I often leave information out or pass off my worries, wants, and fears in a trivial way. In an almost reactionary fashion, I use humor and sarcasm to make others laugh. The joy I find in making them laugh, however, is not based on them being made happier through my humor. It is in their laughter that I find acceptance. If I can make people laugh, then I can make them want me around. If they want me around, then maybe there's more to me than grades and performance.

I've realized that the reason I miss being in a relationship is that I miss the feeling of comfort and acceptance I used to feel. That there was someone out there who knew my faults, my fears, my shortcomings, and loved me anyway. Who wanted to see me and spend time with me. Who accepted me on seemingly every level of my person. I used to have that ... but I walked away from it. Be it from arrogance, disillusionment, or laziness, I took that connection for granted and decided I no longer needed it. Or, if I did need it, that I would be able to find it again without much difficulty. I know now how important and special that connection was ... and it pains me to realize what I've lost.

The choices you make on a daily basis define who you are. Each day you will wake up, and what you do that day will determine a little bit more of who you are. Your priorities will shape themselves without your knowledge, until eventually they have become your character.

All I want is to find a way to stop defining myself like this ... but even as I write that, I am afraid to let go. How will people see me, if not as who I am today? How will they speak of me, if not as the overachiever?

How do I stop this?
How do I make those I love the foundation of my worth?

Interesting ponderings for a Saturday night of work.

Have a good evening.