Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Musings of A Gifted Human Being

I have to be the best. At everything I do. Ever since I was a kid, I usually got compliments for my grades and intellectual achievments. When I wasn't doing well, I would be told "you're so capable", "you have so much to give" and so on. They meant well, but it paralyzed me.
I have to be the best, because I can't imagine just being good. It's all or nothing. Either I ace, or I'm deficient, worth less somehow. I'd be a disappointment to my parents, my teachers, my classmates rooting for me. I'd be "wasted potential". In conversations around the cofee table, they'll talk about me with a sigh. That boy, he really could have been something.
My MA has to be a masterpiece. Because the subject is so hot-button. Because my advisor, one of the most brilliant minds in the country, believes I can do it. I'm so afraid of letting him down.
I have to ace every paper, impress with every presentation. Any criticism immediately cancells out all the praise. If 99% liked my paper and 1% hated it or belittled it, the other 99% doesn't count. I have to have everyone's adulation. Without it, I'm nothing.
The present-day Orthodox Jewish world is no help at all in this regard. Our "heroes" are picture perfect. Tzadikim who never made mistakes or savants who could memorize the Shas. All the rest of us are sneered upon. "Baalei Batim", people who do "mehkar" and so on. Even actual poskim are a few rungs lower on the ladder. God forbid actual public service and messy reality interfere with pure otherworldly matters.
I hate them. I hate the people, both in the religious and secular world, who will tolerate nothing but marble models and Greek gods. Mostly, I hate them because they make me hate myself even more, because I know I can never measure up to such ideals. I can barely begin many a paper for so long because I know, or am afraid that it will never come out as pristine and perfect as it seemed in my head. Even now, I'm thinking about all the possible critiques of this post.
I don't know what to do, really. It feels like a trap with no way out.