Born into a family of pride, success, and wealth; how do I find my own true purpose with the pressure of what’s expected in my so-called perfect reality. I often sit here pondering my own thoughts, batting them back and forth like a never-ending soccer game. Most often I think I shouldn’t have these silent battles with my thoughts. Maybe all they say is right; “Her life is perfect.”, “She’s never going to have to understand the true struggle.”, “She will never understand what it’s like to be with the rest of the world, fighting for a chance.”. I often ignore these thoughts but, when they stick around one word seems to stick inside my brain. This word, it swirls and twists and turns like a tornado getting ready to break loose. Purpose.
What is my purpose? Everything in my life seems so endlessly planned and thought out. I have this perfect journey planned out, every step of the way is made possible by connections and social hierarchy. My purpose is known by most but it still remains very unclear to me. Do I really have a purpose when everything needed to make it happen is handed to me…? Impossible expectations surround me as if they are anchors holding me to the very bottom of the deepest ocean. No matter how hard I try to break through the anchors and land above water, the chains won’t give in. In my life, I am given the opportunity of being able to do anything with my life.
No matter what I pick, it’s going to be financially supported and easier for me just because of my father’s work and social status. This makes my life seem planned out, almost like it was pre-destined before I even know what a purpose was. As if I have no say in it. It stops me from facing the hardships and struggles to find out my purpose. This leaves me here wondering what I am meant to do, who I am meant to be. Imagine this; It’s a beautiful bright sunny summer day on the coast. The white shimmering sand meets the sea green and royal blue ocean’s mighty waves. Along the beach, there are small holes, turtle nesting holes.
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As the sun begins to set over the horizon causing a magnificent array of color across the sky and ocean, small heads peek out from the sand across the beach. Now, a young turtle has many chances to get to the water. They have to make it to the ocean in order to survive, that’s their purpose. Now, most of the turtles can’t just crawl straight to the water, they have to fight through crabs, deep sand, birds, humans, and small animals. Some turtles will get confused by the city lights and go the wrong way, down the wrong path. Although most of the turtles will have to struggle and get lost finding their way to the water’s edge, some turtles get lucky and have a straight clear path to the water.
These turtles who get the opportunity to go straight to the water’s edge represent me, while, the other turtles who have to fight and find their way to the water represent most of the general population. Even though these turtles seem to have a straight path to the ocean, they still have their own struggles with it. I can feel my heart sink to the bottom of my chest, the throbbing of my own eyes, the ringing screams vibrating in my ears, and the pounding of my own thoughts trying to break free from my cluttered mind.
My fingers are curled into a fist, nails digging into my palm. I can’t hear my rapid breathing, but I can feel the oxygen flooding in and out of my lungs. Hesitantly I look up at the man standing before me. I know I’ve done it this time. I’ve brought shame on our name and everything he has worked for. I wasn’t enough… I didn’t do enough to make him proud; to make him happy. Fear and pain torture my guts, churning my stomach with intense cramps. Fear surrounds my conscience, knocking all other thoughts aside. Fear overwhelms my body, making it drastically exhausted.
However, most of all, the fear of what will happen next is making me calm and that is what scares me the most. The fear sits quietly, taking over the person I was born to be. What starts as a small talk of what I did wrong and how I need to be better quickly turns into a argument on how it is necessary for me to be the best. To be this perfect daughter who can conquer the world while sitting back and being quiet listening to what she is told. My breathing becomes unpredictable, deep, then shallow. I fight it. I fight the feeling as my body longs to be free or shut down entirely. Each time this happens part of me gets stronger, I learn how to cope. Although, with finding a way to cope, part of me weakens.
Every day my fear needs a name and the name that best fits it always seems to be stress. The stress of never trying, of failing, and of disappointing those close to me course through my veins. I try to keep moving forward. I can’t help but seem to be a disappointment, I can’t accomplish what is expected of me, it is impossible. These impossible expectations put me in a state of mind like no other. You can’t tell it bothers me because I just know how to push through fear better than others. I try harder and harder each day to realize my purpose. Every breaking moment, every breath I take in; I absorb all I can from it. I search endlessly for serenity.
I just want to be approved of, I want all my effort to be noticed. I can’t be perfect, I never will be perfect. In his eyes, perfection is all he wants. I strive day after day, night after night, and week after week to try and meet this expectation. I try to be perfect. I try to be strong. I try to be loyal, smart, realistic, hopeful, and most importantly happy. How do I do this when I have the fiery reins from Hell holding me down against the earth. Dragging me along this endless soccer game. I know I will never be enough for him, enough to take on what is expected of me. I don’t want that future. I don’t want the future that is laid out in front of me, I want to accomplish what I dream of.
Most importantly, I want to find my own purpose, what I am destined to do, who I am destined to be. It seems easy to do in a thought to be perfect reality, but what do I do when all I’m told is that I must follow what I was planned to be. My freedom is what most don’t understand, that it is hard for me to break away from what I’m expected to do, to what I want to do. I can’t seem to find the time to break away. To find courage and determination. I want to find my purpose, but, it has never seemed so unclear to me. Is my purpose to follow in what is expected of me, or am I supposed to break off and explore the world to find it for myself?
