He told me I wasn’t on his level, and I believed him.
He told me I wasn’t on his level hundreds of times over the course of our on-and-off relationship that spanned almost 8 years, practically the entirety of my 20s. I started off our relationship already a shell of myself having just been dumped by my first boyfriend, all the while struggling academically at Stanford University. I shouldn’t have been looking for a new boyfriend. I should’ve been seeing a therapist or taking time off school to get myself together.
Alas, when I met him, and we started our relationship he seemed to be just the boost of confidence I needed. He built me up. He told me I was beautiful, smart and capable. During our honeymoon phase, I thought he was the answer to all my problems. I thought he made me better. After all he had pulled me out from the depths of my depression, my grades improved, and I graduated university on time.
As most young women in their early 20s I was confused and trying to find myself. What was I into? What was my passion? Am I even capable of being passionate? These were the thoughts that anguished me. What if I was a one-dimensional person that wasn't interested in anything? It sounds ludicrous, but at many points in my early adulthood, I thought this about myself! And then there was my boyfriend. He was smart, driven, focused, athletic, a real go-getter, the opposite of me at the time. I admired him. I loved him. His approval meant everything to me. I really wanted to be the other half of his power couple.
He wanted me to be, too. He took it upon himself to give me an action plan. Get into Human Resources, he said. Work in diversity, and then eventually pursue your MBA at a top 10 institution because according to him I would surely get in. I adopted this plan as my own without hesitation. I was so happy and relieved to have some sort of direction. I attempted over the next 7 or so years to execute this plan. Except I couldn’t for reasons that wouldn’t reveal themselves to me until many years later. If I’m honest with myself, I never really tried.
Relationships between young and inexperienced people are rarely built to last and we were no exception. My lack of direction and recurrent depression had taken a toll on my confidence and my boyfriend grew extremely impatient with me. At the lowest points in our relationship, he would tell me I wasn’t on his level, and I believed him. I mustered all the strength I could, broke off our engagement, and moved to another city. I thought by physically extricating myself from the relationship, I would somehow bounce back. I know now that was just wishful thinking. I had left him and the relationship, but I wouldn't shake the emotional scars and the lack of confidence for many years.
I feel bad for that girl. The one in her 20s, emotionally devastated with extremely low self-worth and self-esteem with absolutely no direction. I felt like I had started life out with a bang and then in an anti-climactic fashion, fizzled out by my late 20s. I was ashamed and embarrassed, which led me to isolate myself and not share my true feelings with anyone. That was a huge mistake because I hadn’t fizzled at all. On the contrary my spark was never lit.
That’s what happens when you lack purpose. We urge our gifted children to pursue education, and to get into the best college possible, for what? Bragging rights? There were so many conversations I should have had as a teenager that I didn’t such as what are you passionate about? What are you good at? What do you love doing? What activity makes you lose all sense of time? What are your values and what issues matter most to you? Instead, I was preoccupied with my grades, my test scores, and my ability to get into a top ten school. No wonder I felt one-dimensional.
If I could go back and talk to 14-year-old me, I would ask her the hard and important questions. I would get to know her heart, and what truly matters to her. I would be curious about what makes her tick, the things that move her, anger her, or make her sad. I would tell her that she is more than the college she can get into, that life is not solely about measuring up to anyone; but rather, life is about sharing our God-given talents and gifts with others in a meaningful way. Had someone asked me these questions as an adolescent, it would have saved me a lot of heartache and time.
If you’re young, old, or in between and suffer from a feeling that you’re not living up to your purpose, or perhaps, you do not even know what your purpose is, you can rest assured that with enough trial and error, and resolve, you’ll figure it out, or at least get close to it. What I've learned thus far is life isn’t about your accolades, or how you measure up to others, how young you’re able to accomplish things, or how many people know your name. It’s about being your own best friend, getting to know yourself, picking yourself up after failures, and trying again. It’s about asking yourself the right questions, loving your family and friends, helping others where you can, and enjoying the time you have here on earth.
My boyfriend at the time was right. I absolutely was not on his level. I never was meant to be. I’m on a level that’s uniquely my own, that is made for me, where I belong, and I am more than happy to inhabit this space with myself. Trust me when I say don’t get caught up in what your friends are doing or what you think success looks like. The amazing news is you get to decide what success is. Not society, not your parents, not your boyfriend, not your girlfriend, not anyone, but YOU. If you remember anything from my experience, just know that you, and you alone, are the master of your story. Guess what? It’s time to get to writing.