As an INFJ-T personality type, my ambition tends to soar beyond the realm of possibility, leaving me stranded in the afterthought of an impossible idea.
In a simpler turn of phrase, I have always been too ambitious for my own good.
I can visualize my future ahead of me: getting accepted to my dream university, graduating with top honors, becoming a renowned journalist known for bringing a voice to the oppressed and standing up to corporate greed, and hopefully, living out my days comfortably in a home in the English countryside.
It’s hard to explain how much I desire this life I’ve mapped out for myself. The greed to accomplish this rigid schedule of life is insatiable.
Because who am I if not this plan? It follows a set of principles I want to maintain for myself as I mature: staying smart, following my moral compass, and expectantly making enough money to where I won’t have to reduce my grocery budget weekly.
Currently, this plan is blinding my vision like a set of jet-black contacts. In my mind’s eye, these contacts are a canvas on which I can spread out this scheme. I can see what I have to do to get there and how to conserve each step once I clinch it with my trembling fingertips. I just have to keep working hard. That’s all.
However, my future self is looking past how my fingertips are scraped raw and how the veins are pulsing in my palm. My hands are bloody with the weight of personal expectation, dry without the tears I’ve been forcing myself to hold back, and bruised bluish-green from the hair ties strung around my wrist. I haven’t removed them since I was 14. I’ve been waiting until I satisfy my life’s purpose.
This personal mission has been killing me, slowly but surely.
But my future self insists. She tells me I am so close to reaching the first part of the plan. Once I secure the first step, I’ll go easier on myself.
I know she’s lying to me. I’ll never get rid of those hair ties, the ones that have been restricting my blood flow for two years. The rubber inside them is indestructible at this point, so much so that they’ve become chains.
These chains are proof of the one belief I’ve never been able to break, no matter how many times I pen it in my Notes app: I’ll never be good enough.
Not for me, not for my family and friends, not for anyone.
Because my constant ambition will never be fulfilled. I’ll always want more: more dedication from myself, more promise tomorrow will be better, more chances to prove myself to my peers, and more time to watch every movie, read every book, and visit every country.
Each goal I achieve will inevitably be forgotten to time, buried in the grave labeled Nostalgia. Now and then, when I’m convinced I’m not doing enough, I’ll grab a shovel and dig out this seemingly minuscule accomplishment, drunk on the satisfaction of finally being good enough, even if it’s just for a minute.
Sometimes, I’ll get lost in this graveyard that spans an infinite amount of acres, unearthing each memory like it’s an old friend I haven’t seen in years. I’ll giggle uncontrollably upon the sight of it, give it a hug, then walk away from it again until the next time my morbid obsession with memories crawls its way back to the forefront of my mind.
By the time I return to my physical being, my hair is oily and hasn’t been washed in days, my closet is full of smelly clothing, and my current read has been left untouched for weeks.
The cycle continues.
However, recently, I’ve been forcing myself to focus more on the journey than the outcome.
Maybe it’s just the “New year, new me” mindset kicking in, but I’ve found it easier and easier to lock the graveyard in a steel vault in the trenches of my mind and, instead, focus on the now.
Each day, it gets a little easier to find the ephemeral winter sunlight astonishingly beautiful and not annoyingly brazen. Each day, it’s easier to smile at the little girl holding her father’s hand and not be reminded how much I miss my childhood. Each day, it’s easier to indulge in the little things, like baking a new recipe or writing a new journal entry.
I can see it now, clear as the dawn on the horizon.
Maybe it’s enough.
Maybe it’s enough, sitting on the singular couch in Room 216 with Addie playing GeoGuessr. It’s enough, chatting with Elle about Letterboxd and the most recent movie that we loved or hated. It’s enough, snorting about how I’m probably going to pass out doing pom full-out with the dance team. It’s enough, fangirling with Evelyn and Ella about Andrew Garfield’s Chicken Shop Date. It’s enough, laughing about Bootsie the cat with my dad and Lily. It’s enough, going to Panera Bread with Ellie twice a month and dining in for at least an hour. It’s enough to spend my sixth hour with some of my favorite people in my favorite class.
What if, all this time, I’ve been forcing myself to believe in a false fantasy?
What if the real goals and experiences I should’ve cherished came from every moment I dismissed with a casual wave of my hand?
It’s terrifying—knowing that my entire life has been leading up to this moment. And the next one, and the one after that. I’ll never be as young again as I am right now, writing this column. So why was I so set on growing up and leaving this vivacious era of teenage angst behind me?
Learning to slow down and take it easy for a perfectionist like me is a tough lesson, but it’s deeply necessary.
Despite the little devil on my left shoulder jabbering on about expectations, I’ve started to lean toward the positive, reaching for the good and believing in the best possible outcome. I know now that everything happens for a reason. Everything meant for me will come in time if I keep my head up and never lose sight of what’s important.
Even if my once-adamantine plan does crumble to pieces, I’ll embrace it in the knowledge that life is unexpected. Plans will change, friends will leave and enter my life, and I’ll soak a little bit of goodness into myself each day through nature and the people in my life that have saturated the gray hues of January with an unexpected burst of Technicolor.
Ellie Stone • Feb 4, 2025 at 8:45 pm
Love this message May! I’m so grateful to share so many beautiful memories with you and I can’t wait to create more.