For as long as I’ve been in school, I’ve recognized myself as an overachiever. If there’s more I can be doing in anything — from a school assignment, to a group project, to a personal goal — I want to not just succeed but exceed expectations. With this lens in mind, I have pushed myself for most of my life to constantly be reaching for more to put on my full plate. In high school, I eagerly signed up for the International Baccalaureate Programme and earned it (an honor I share with people such as Kesha, Ken Jennings, and Kim Jong Un, although I’m more honored about the former two than the latter). In college, I got into the UC of my dreams here at UC Riverside and accepted admission into the Honors program — I’m a program(me) girlie, what can I say? Now, staring down my last quarter of college, I help copy edit the school paper and two literary journals, am an (admittedly inactive) member of Gamma Beta Phi, am finishing two internships, two majors, and am an occasional presence in our English Majors Association and Music Enthusiasts Society — if your eyes have started to glaze over, I don’t blame you.
I say this not to brag, but to show the volume of things I’ve entrenched myself into on our campus. I’ve wanted to milk my experience for all it’s worth. It has been ridiculously rewarding in so many ways — but I can’t lie that sometimes that drive to overachieve has meant that I feel incredibly stressed out, or lacking any kind of free time for myself and my thoughts. Although I sometimes hear the saying “You can’t complain your plate is full when your goal is to eat” rattle around in my head, when your drive is to overachieve, sometimes that plate leaves you feeling less like a feasting queen and more like Bruce Bogtrotter from Matilda. The slice of chocolate cake looked great at first, but when you’re suddenly forced to eat a cake bigger than your whole body, you feel sick and burned out.
We live in a culture that prioritizes productivity over personal care — saying this is nothing new and indeed a cliche in a social space that is now increasingly aware of the impacts of capitalism on people’s lives and free time. And working time for yourself into your schedule is incredibly important, I can’t deny. When your drive and sense of motivation is a genuine passion, however, it’s easy to say that because it’s not driven by profit or the desire to survive, it’s okay to keep pushing for even more. It’s certainly not a bad thing to invest yourself into things that you care about, no matter how capitalism is affecting you.
When you’re driven by this inner ambition, too, it can feel even easier to write off burnout, because how can you get tired of something you want to do well at? And yet, burnout is something I grapple with at the end of every quarter, and I can’t lie that my work suffers for it sometimes. Even saying “no” to things can be hard — during a particularly difficult time, I had to turn down a secretary position in Gamma Beta Phi and felt incredibly guilty because I had to say no. Even if ultimately, that “no” gave me a little more space for myself in my schedule, I find myself always feeling bad that I turned the role down. My drive to achieve and expand my skills in different areas often ties into a major fear of letting people down if I don’t succeed, or even decline.
I can’t finish this article off saying that I know the solution to this. It’s a conflicting way to live feeling like you constantly can and should be doing more, but not always having the bandwidth or simply the time to do so. You can’t always yoga, sleep, and cry your struggles away — but as I leave undergrad behind, and all these valuable lessons and experiences in just three months, I hope that I can strike a balance between my drive to try new things, and my need as a human to rest and recuperate so I can continue to reach for new goals.
