Learning from experience is a commonly overlooked privilege not all of us have access to enjoy.
As the youngest of four, and a naturally quiet kid with a big imagination, I spent most of my childhood on the sidelines—learning through my siblings’ experiences, hearing stories from friends, and feeling like I was stuck in a loop of secondhand living. As I grew older, I quietly resolved to change that.
It’s a strange thing for someone who wants so badly to have it all figured out to be so bent on jumping into the unknown. But, for me, the desire to be human– a fully feeling complicated being and not an idea— just barely edges out my other anchoring want to know all, to be ‘good’ , and to do ‘right’. I used to think my desire to have everything perfectly figured out was a need for safety but I’ve realized, painfully at times, that perfectionism is far from safe.
Perfectionism steals you from your own presence.
It keeps you chasing some phantom reflection of what you should be (could be [would be]) and running constantly from your own shadow. Perfection has been sold to me as safety so many times in so many ways, but it’s never really been more than a fast road to burn out— a constantly moving goal post with a new task waiting restlessly at each endpoint.
How much time with yourself have you missed in that never ending chase? What could be more edifying proof of your own deep security than the willingness to let yourself go out there (into ‘the great unknown’), as you are and maybe (often) doing something that might feel like messing up —- flirt loudly, be fully honest, date the guy you know you won’t go anywhere long term, speak up and mispronounce a word you’ve only known in ink and print, try to honor your feelings and fall short in honoring another’s in the process–
To live, maybe untidily, but true enough to yourself to explore and LEARN the vast landscape of you.
Even the inevitable detours in venturing into the unknown have served me by showing me that I don’t lose I learn. I try to face the unknown by being true to my authentic desire in the present moment, knowing that detours are inevitable. Through my missteps, I’ve learned crucial lessons. I’ve learned that the only tools in my relationship repair box was leaving or staying—a realization that pushed me to learn lovingly how to mature past that, how to express when I was hurt and hear when I had caused hurt instead of leaving. How to unlearn the urge of abandoning before being abandoned. I’ve said what I thought were my beliefs and changed them, and realized how my expectation of others (silent suffering, perfection) was a reflection of my own judgements, lack of compassion, and unrelenting expectations of myself.
My experiences with with the world around me: moving to another country during a pandemic, going on the date with the guy who’d probably end up thinking I wasn’t edgy enough (Alexa play Too Sweet by Hozier :P) —going to that event where of course I was the only Black girl and yes racist shit did occur ( shoved by a guy in front of everyone and all my ‘friends’ pretended they hadn’t seen it till I brought it up later), moving to another country during the pandemic—have only brought me closer to myself. Their value was not in the outcome, in fact judging by the outcome alone they might be viewed as failures.
The date didn’t turn into much more than a cacophony of maybes and mixed signals (and surprise, the very thing the guy liked about me, turned into my fatal flaw).
The night out ended in me soberly accepting that the “well-meaning” people I was spending most of my day around didn’t consider me a friend and that wasn’t because I wasn’t trying; the move to the UK ended in me coming back to America for law school.
No, there wasn’t much romance in the outcomes. But, the romance was in getting to meet myself– each new experiences bringing a new meet-cute to a part of myself I hadn’t been able to see before: bold, daring, fun, over-it, determined, brash, indignant, haughty.
I’d be remiss to end here and not note the obvious– I still fear failure. I still don’t like when things don’t go the way I’d hoped, even if it might be what I’ve signed up for with this whole learn-through-experience thing.
I, like the rest of you, don’t like feeling like I failed– loudly or quietly.
And sometimes I don’t feel the need to go out there and jump off the edge, I’d rather stay comfortably where I am, the risk of falling outweighs what I feel I’d get from jumping. But, each time I perfectionist myself out of trying new things (like writing this blog post, for example)I think of all the carefree experiences spelling up youth that I felt locked outside of growing up as ‘other’. Unspoken rites of passage that I’m still judged for having not had access to. When I think of that inner child who didn’t have prom or wild nights out or spontaneous summer nights spent with friends, I remember how incredibly privileged I am now to be able to choose to learn from experience. To worry about blog posts and date nights and starting a new job and not drones and metal detectors and exploding pagers.
All this is to say, if I come off as private or guarded, it’s probably because I am fiercely protective of my right to experience life on my terms, without expectations, permission, or the need for perfection that comes from too many eyes at once. I am well aware that this is a privilege which many seem to think someone in my body and my ‘too-long’ ‘too-foreign’ name shouldn’t have access to.
I am fiercely protective of my own right to live authentically (and to constantly (re)define and (re)explore what that might mean). Living authentically, and the exploration that comes with it, is my way of reclaiming space—for myself, for my voice, for my right to exist as I am, in all my complexities.
So, here’s to trying, to learning, and letting each new experience be a meet-cute with another part of yourself—one untidy uncharted step at a time. 🥂