"I struggle with understanding other people. I find myself expecting perfection from those I choose to interact with, even though I know that it’s unrealistic. I expect them to be mature yet humorous, timely yet easygoing, caring yet understanding,and forthright yet candid. Most of all, I expect them to be kind. I hold the people around me to a higher standard than I do myself, and it’s something that I struggle with everyday.
How can I expect to build meaningful relationships if my expectations of people are impossible to live up to? I struggle with the problem whenever I meet someone. You see, every relationship goes through a “honeymoon” phase–this isn’t exclusive to just dating. It works with friendships as well. Whenever I make a friend, the honeymoon phase is always perfect. I find their quirks endearing, their humor refreshing, and their presence something to look forward to. I’ve noticed that throughout my life, I make friends quickly, and if I really try to get to know someone, I bond with them faster. The honeymoon phase is strong with me.
But after some time, I always reach a point where a switch flips in my mind, and I now notice a million tiny flaws about them that just make me want to distance myself. So I slowly cut off contact, ghosting away and disappearing into someone that they “used to know”. The switch could happen for a multitude of reasons, some more serious than others: the way they talk, how they interact with people, their moral compass, or even if they leave me on “read” too often. I’ll admit, sometimes I think my reasons are petty; the problem is I never realize that I’m cutting them off until I haven’t messaged them in two weeks or I haven’t made plans with them in a while. And when I think about it, I find all these reasons to justify myself in doing so.
I realize now that I am the problem–not these millions of reasons.
Growing up, I had social anxiety when it came to relationships with my peers. I wanted to fit in, so I conformed to their interests. They liked sports, so I liked sports. My brother loved video games, so naturally I loved video games. In third grade when beyblades were in, as you can imagine, I was one of those kids screaming, “let it RIIIIIIIIIIP.” In seventh grade, I was ready to d-d-d-d-d-duel. Whatever the trend was, I was the guy who was always on it. I wanted to be the perfect guy to talk to. I tried to be funny so that people would see that I was humorous. I tried to be caring so that my friends could talk to me whenever they had problems, and open with my own so people could see that I wasn’t hiding behind a facade.
As a naive child, I expected everyone else to be like that too. In my mind, I was a perfect person; in reality, I wasn’t, and couldn’t understand when people wouldn’t talk to me as much as I wanted them to. I was jaded by how people I thought were arrogant and self-absorbed would get more attention than me, even though I strived to be selfless. I felt pissed off that I couldn’t be the coolest guy in school, and that all my friends only saw me as an obnoxious goofball. I didn’t have the maturity to realize that the problem was intrinsic; it had little to do with the people around me. My personality was abrasive, clingy, and annoying, but I was blind to my imperfections. So slowly, I began to judge the people around me, picking at their flaws to convince myself that I was the one that wasn’t hanging out with them and not the other way around. Eventually, as I got older, I realized I wasn’t perfect. In fact, far from it–but neither were they, right?
After entering college and meeting people around me that I thought of as not only my friends, but also my mentors, I realized that the reason I look up to them is because of how altruistic they can be. They understand that people make mistakes in life, and that no one is perfect. To expect everyone around you to conform to your morals and ideals is what leads to problems; every person has a unique way of thinking, and discouraging people from thinking differently is fundamentally wrong. These special people that I’ve had the honor of meeting here at UIUC have truly shaped me into a better person. Now, I like to think of myself as more understanding and open-minded. Even though I stand up for my beliefs as fiercely and as passionately as before, I realize that I am not perfect. Nobody is–and that’s okay.
When I think about the relationships that I have built and maintained at this moment, I like to think that I’m doing better. I’ve grown a lot since my angsty high school years. I no longer believe that I have to be the coolest guy, nor do I have to be the person with all the friends. I just need to have those friends that I would do anything for, who I know would do the same for me. I no longer feel the need to be perfect in the eyes of my peers. As long as they can see me for the person I am, and realize that I’m just trying my best to find my path in life, I feel like I am truly being myself.
More importantly, I no longer expect perfection from myself–or from the people around me.
Now, when I look at the people I’m close to, I see people who are dealing with problems in their life. I used to look at these problems as an out, but I now see these problems as a chance to let the people that I care about know that I am there for them. I’ve learned in my short time here at UIUC that every person you meet has their own story, and it’s unfair to look at a person and write them off without ever giving them a chance. Perfection is something that we should always strive for–in academics, in relationships, and in life. But I’ve learned that expecting to reach perfection is a fallacy, because being perfect is unrealistic. Trying my damndest to make the lives of the people around me better by any amount is close enough for me. I also like memes so hmu."
How can I expect to build meaningful relationships if my expectations of people are impossible to live up to? I struggle with the problem whenever I meet someone. You see, every relationship goes through a “honeymoon” phase–this isn’t exclusive to just dating. It works with friendships as well. Whenever I make a friend, the honeymoon phase is always perfect. I find their quirks endearing, their humor refreshing, and their presence something to look forward to. I’ve noticed that throughout my life, I make friends quickly, and if I really try to get to know someone, I bond with them faster. The honeymoon phase is strong with me.
But after some time, I always reach a point where a switch flips in my mind, and I now notice a million tiny flaws about them that just make me want to distance myself. So I slowly cut off contact, ghosting away and disappearing into someone that they “used to know”. The switch could happen for a multitude of reasons, some more serious than others: the way they talk, how they interact with people, their moral compass, or even if they leave me on “read” too often. I’ll admit, sometimes I think my reasons are petty; the problem is I never realize that I’m cutting them off until I haven’t messaged them in two weeks or I haven’t made plans with them in a while. And when I think about it, I find all these reasons to justify myself in doing so.
I realize now that I am the problem–not these millions of reasons.
Growing up, I had social anxiety when it came to relationships with my peers. I wanted to fit in, so I conformed to their interests. They liked sports, so I liked sports. My brother loved video games, so naturally I loved video games. In third grade when beyblades were in, as you can imagine, I was one of those kids screaming, “let it RIIIIIIIIIIP.” In seventh grade, I was ready to d-d-d-d-d-duel. Whatever the trend was, I was the guy who was always on it. I wanted to be the perfect guy to talk to. I tried to be funny so that people would see that I was humorous. I tried to be caring so that my friends could talk to me whenever they had problems, and open with my own so people could see that I wasn’t hiding behind a facade.
As a naive child, I expected everyone else to be like that too. In my mind, I was a perfect person; in reality, I wasn’t, and couldn’t understand when people wouldn’t talk to me as much as I wanted them to. I was jaded by how people I thought were arrogant and self-absorbed would get more attention than me, even though I strived to be selfless. I felt pissed off that I couldn’t be the coolest guy in school, and that all my friends only saw me as an obnoxious goofball. I didn’t have the maturity to realize that the problem was intrinsic; it had little to do with the people around me. My personality was abrasive, clingy, and annoying, but I was blind to my imperfections. So slowly, I began to judge the people around me, picking at their flaws to convince myself that I was the one that wasn’t hanging out with them and not the other way around. Eventually, as I got older, I realized I wasn’t perfect. In fact, far from it–but neither were they, right?
After entering college and meeting people around me that I thought of as not only my friends, but also my mentors, I realized that the reason I look up to them is because of how altruistic they can be. They understand that people make mistakes in life, and that no one is perfect. To expect everyone around you to conform to your morals and ideals is what leads to problems; every person has a unique way of thinking, and discouraging people from thinking differently is fundamentally wrong. These special people that I’ve had the honor of meeting here at UIUC have truly shaped me into a better person. Now, I like to think of myself as more understanding and open-minded. Even though I stand up for my beliefs as fiercely and as passionately as before, I realize that I am not perfect. Nobody is–and that’s okay.
When I think about the relationships that I have built and maintained at this moment, I like to think that I’m doing better. I’ve grown a lot since my angsty high school years. I no longer believe that I have to be the coolest guy, nor do I have to be the person with all the friends. I just need to have those friends that I would do anything for, who I know would do the same for me. I no longer feel the need to be perfect in the eyes of my peers. As long as they can see me for the person I am, and realize that I’m just trying my best to find my path in life, I feel like I am truly being myself.
More importantly, I no longer expect perfection from myself–or from the people around me.
Now, when I look at the people I’m close to, I see people who are dealing with problems in their life. I used to look at these problems as an out, but I now see these problems as a chance to let the people that I care about know that I am there for them. I’ve learned in my short time here at UIUC that every person you meet has their own story, and it’s unfair to look at a person and write them off without ever giving them a chance. Perfection is something that we should always strive for–in academics, in relationships, and in life. But I’ve learned that expecting to reach perfection is a fallacy, because being perfect is unrealistic. Trying my damndest to make the lives of the people around me better by any amount is close enough for me. I also like memes so hmu."
