Stephanie has plenty of support when striking a balance in life (Stephanie Saey image)
I have been naturally blessed with an intelligent mind; when I was younger, my parents were quick to take notice of this, but often remarked that my intelligence was "a double-edged sword."
As a child, and still today, my mind is in perpetual motion -- always wondering, always thinking, always questioning, and always over-analyzing. Of course, there are great blessings in having such a mind: intelligence opens the door of natural inquisition, a broader perspective, and the aptitude for deeper understanding. However, when an intelligent mind is prone to high anxiety, like mine, over-analyzing can lead to the wiring of negative thinking patterns in the brain.
As my childhood progressed, negative thinking patterns began to sturdily engineer themselves in my brain: I was always predicting the worst, believed I was under the constant judgment of others, and was overly critical of myself. The only way to cope with these irrational anxieties, said my mind, was to find perfection and make the least amount of mistakes possible.
Being an anxious perfectionist meant that I was constantly seeking to be at the top. Not the top five percent, the top three, the top two. The actual top. In my mind, being second-best meant that there was something else I could have done to reach the level of my superior. I would compare myself to the best of the best in all areas -- as a student, as a runner, as a leader, as a Christian, and as a human being in general.
Unfortunately, though it was a blessing at the time, my perfectionism led me to a multitude of accomplishments and accolades, which further increased the pressure I put on myself. I won contests, races, scholarships, first place prizes here and there. My accomplishments also led to comments from others that indirectly validated the expectations I thought they had of me to be perfect. When other children got "congrats" for their feats, I often heard, "Well of course Stephanie won." Instead of a "good job, there's always another chance" when I lost, I was told, "what went wrong?"
Suddenly I wasn't doing anything because I wanted to -- I was doing it because I thought it was the "right" thing to do and what people expected of me. High school was easy. My brain loved it because I knew exactly what I was "supposed" to be doing to be at the top. There were really no decisions to be made. Of course, I would take all AP classes offered. Of course I would get straight A's. Of course I would participate in sports (cross country and track, in my case) and work hard to be one of the top athletes in the state. Of course I would join clubs and help out around the school and in my community. Of course I would do what the "perfect" student would do.
Stephanie and younger sister Sara (left) enjoying themselves in New York's famed Central Park
This quest for perfection spilled into all areas of my life, including eating, as I mentioned in my first post. I spent the majority of my days analyzing every morsel I put into my mouth, every decision I made, my bedtime, how long I ran or exercised, what activities I chose to do in my "free time," whether or not I should even allow myself "free time"... my mind was a prison cell. I fell hard into the false trap that there was always a "right" and "wrong" choice to make, and that I could control these choices.
So do you blame me, when I entered college and suddenly had a plethora of decisions to make and unsupervised time alone with my own mind that I fell into bingeing? The truth is, no matter how hard you try, you cannot live in extremes. Eventually you're going to crack. After years of intense perfectionism and obsessive compulsive disorders behaviors, my mind found so much comfort in being uncontrollable, unpredictable, and impulsive. I wanted to outwardly portray the big "slap in the face" I was giving my OCD thoughts and compulsions, and making my worst fears my reality seemed like the only way to do it: bingeing, gaining a ton of weight, sabotaging my running ability, and choosing to make what had forever viewed as "wrong" decisions. I spent a year and a half in this state of mind, this "other extreme," which was an addiction in itself.
Today, in recovery, I am working to find what my mind and body both desperately desire: becoming balanced. Balance is such an enigmatic notion to me; there is such a wide range of what is "normal" as far as behaviors and mental patterns go, and for someone so black-and-white as myself, it is much more comforting to live in extremes. There is a false sense of control in irrationality.
In trying to reach a healthy middle after the picking myself up from the extreme of bingeing, laziness, and not caring about anything, it has been difficult not to want to go back the extreme of attempting to be "perfect." As far as running goes, I am in complete confusion with what I truly desire from it, or what I "should" be doing. A year ago, when I was really struggling, I was not in school, was bingeing every day, and could hardly run a mile in ten minutes.
Now that I am practicing healthier habits and getting back into shape, the running goals I gave up on are becoming real once more. I know that if I keep on a path of consistent training, I could reach an elite level again, especially considering I never really got a chance to train and reach my potential in high school. But is that what I really want? I love running. I love running to death, but a lot of hard work and sacrifice will have to go into reaching my goals. The latter is undeniable.
Across the board of all sports, athletes who excel must be dedicated, motivated, and willing to sacrifice some sense of "normalcy" for their sport and a shot at success. However, with my history of perfectionism and various eating disorders, this path may not be the healthiest road for me. I know if I choose to run competitively again, which I really want to do, I will have to be cognizant of setting goals within reason. I will have to give up the mindset of "going the extra mile" (no pun intended) and stray from doing all the small things that often further improve an athlete's fitness because the latter can easily become addictions and OCD compulsions in my mind. Basically, I will have to give up reaching my "full potential" as an athlete in order to focus on recovery. And I'm learning to be okay with that.
I'm not arguing for complacency; it is wonderful to set high goals and work hard to achieve them. What I'm trying to do, through sharing my journey of finding balance, is to lead you to reflect on your own lives, goals, and the motives that drive you. "I will be happy when [x, y, z]" is a phrase I hear a lot and used to use frequently. "I'll be happy when I can run a certain time." "I will be happy when I graduate as valedictorian." Society correlates success with happiness, and teaches us success can be found in achievements of tangible evidence: awards, money, good jobs, nice looks, and other worldly ideals.
But these successes, these accomplishments, are they not awarding us with a happiness that is fleeting? The best part about wanting something is not the act of actually achieving it but rather the fantasy of having it. If we realize the fantasies of our dreams are truly what make us happy, we can come to the conclusion that happiness rests within the mind. At the end of the day, only YOU are left alone with your mind and only YOU can decide whether or not this is a happy place to be.
Life is too unpredictable to focus on living "perfectly" and how you measure up to others. When we define ourselves by measurements, numbers, and our accomplishments, we are setting ourselves up for unhealthy comparisons and losing sight of the parts of ourselves that nobody else can claim. The world will continue moving once we are gone. Records will be broken. New discoveries will be made. Your accomplishments will no longer seem as great. But nobody else will ever be able to match your character -- to say they climbed the same mountains, took the same risks, and experienced life in the beautiful way that is unique and special to you. Recognizing THIS, my friends, and repeating it to yourself day in and day out, is one of the first steps in finding balance. It's what a healthy mind -- a mind that is free from the dangerous grips of negative thinking patterns -- not only remembers in the darkest hour, but also believes.
You are all absolutely wonderful. Be kind to yourselves while chasing your dreams.