Addicted to Achievement?

So this post may not mean anything without a little bit of background. Also, since it's my first post, some additional information may also help put future posts in context.

A little about me:
Where to begin? Well, like Dickens I guess at the beginning would be most appropriate. I had an ideal childhood, I suppose (ideal being a relative descriptor of course). I had successful and loving parents, grew up in the suburbs, siblings that I am close with, and went to the best private schools. We didn't have a white picket fence but we lived in a red brick house on a cul-de-sac where the sun seemed to shine longer just so I could ride my pink Schwinn. I was a cheerleader in high school, made good grades, and served on my student council. I probably sound like half a dozen people you know. We might have been friends in high school or college. I could have sat next to you in home room. When it came time for college, I - much to my father's uncontainable glee - was accepted to every school I applied to (except one but we'll save that experience for a later post). In college, I had a lot of friends (and a lot of fun) and managed to graduate on time with two degrees and a minor. After school, I immediately received an offer to work for a respected corporation during a difficult time in the economy. I happily accepted and took 2 months off before eagerly embarking on my career in corporate America.

So now that you have some insight into my Stepford-like existence, I'll move on to the topic that I intended to blog about today: achievement. From a young age, I was nurtured to "always try your best." Somewhere along the way, the message became wired in my brain as "always be the best." In fine print (and coated with a little bitter-sweet experience), one can easily see the important distinction between these two phrases as the former is attainable whilst the latter is not. The real question I ask myself is, "Did I misinterpret the message or was this a product of years and years of subtle brainwashing?" How did the careful grooming of my childhood result in this quest for unattainable perfection? Was it my parents (almost too easy to go that route with the blame)? Was it the neatly manicured halls of my private school and all the lessons learned within? Was it my Barbie (gasp!) complete with her accomplices Ken and Kikki (the ethnic friend), her townhome and pink corvette? Or was it me...

I'm not sure when I began this unhealthy addiction to ahcievement. What about the drug do I most enjoy? - my father's praise? the envy of others? the comfort of knowing I could get what society deemed it was important to have?

One thing that remains unspoken in Stepford is that the quest for succcess (*note here that I don't mean your personal definition of success, I mean the one that society gives us - complete with high-powered jobs, fancy cars, and big houses) that we are directed to embrace at such an early age is littered with uncertainty and the corpses of dreams we may have had but were encouraged to barter for the promise of something better. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I'm concerned that after my endless journey on the yellow brick road of achievement, I'll pull back the curtain to find a short, powerless, holllow wizard that I never recall wanting to meet in the first place.

What brought on this sudden epiphany worthy of my first post you may ask (as the air does indeed smell sweeter in Stepford)? Well, I failed at something. Me. Yes, though I have succeeded at a job that is highly regarded, have run miles and miles to ensure that I remain fit and attractive, have color coded my outlook calendar to ensure that I have ample time with friends and family while still maintaining my workholic image at the office - I overlooked something and subsequently failed. The endless preparation since birth and careful and privileged upbringing did not insulate me from failure. What bothers me most about the glaring defeat is that somehow, I let it cancel out all my other achievements, bringing me to the question of whether they ever meant anything to me in the first place.

So, I put this out there into the virual universe for myself and for you. To stay on the yellow brick road or to jump off into the unknown - I don't have an answer for myself. Nor am I promising you that I will in the near future. The only piece of advice I can give is to look ahead on whatever road you are on and every once in awhile look up just because you want to. Because the journey may be more important than the destination and one day when you get there, you may smile at all those times you stopped walking to look up and wish you had more often.

(thanks for reading if you got this far).