The build up for the last three years hits in a 10 month period.
“Reminder, your scholarships are due YESTERDAY.” With no training wheels you are pushed down the street on your bike like you are 5-years-old again.
I don’t think enough credit is given to the experience of 17 and 18 year olds. This life is exciting, free loading off your parents is great, having “no responsibility” is super, but for those who are living life for the first time (all of us) it is really hard.
I feel like I never know what I’m doing.
Something I never thought this chapter of my life would bring me to grapple with is this question: why are you putting an award in my hand?
I know that sounds ridiculous, like I’m trying to be humble for show. And maybe deep down I am, but the reality of it is that recognition is hard. A big plaque with your name on it, a check from a random scholarship fund who read your essay and decided “Yes! You are the BEST,” it doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t feel like I did anything that special, like I haven’t earned the praise. I have lived my life as me, and only me, so I only know my existence. I only see my flaws and room for improvement and tend to dwell on the sub-par elements of myself.
Through writing and journalism, I have learned how to be more open, but it is dawning on me now that I am selectively vulnerable. I process the world around me very well, but I often ignore myself, my impact, my story.
Before I go down this rabbit hole I want to explain what I mean by vulnerable. In the summer of 2024 after the worst sophomore year slump known to man I attended the Hugh O’Brian Youth Leadership (HOBY) Indiana seminar– perhaps another accomplishment I should be more proud of, but I digress. At this leadership seminar I learned how to be a servant leader, meaning I do good for the greater good, and for the benefit of the people I share a community with, not myself. I think I took this too literally. I adapted the more “never for myself mentality,” overcompensating for what I thought, key word here is “thought,” that I was lacking.
I also learned about this sorely misused, weaponized, big word: vulnerability. Simply put in Caroline terms (definition stolen from the HOBY book of wisdom), vulnerability is learning to share part of your human experience. From the smiley, happy version of yourself to the snotty, face contortion crying where you can’t control your facial expressions, in order to make someone else feel like they belong in the room, too. Despite the social belief that toughness is ideal and vulnerability is weakness, it will never be this black and white. I will die on that hill; your vulnerability is your strength.
During HOBY and the following months I thought I got the whole vulnerability thing down. Really, I did. Like I share, you share, we all share for ice cream or whatever. But, this week has tested me. This year has tested me.
A month-ish ago I found out that I was a nominee for Indiana High School Journalist of the Year. It was so hyped– for a few minutes. But then I went back to my smart-kids-who-don’t-try math class, sat down next to my exceptional friend, and walked into the FOCUS the next day. Why me?
Yes, I did the work that was on my portfolio, yes I took the photos, I wrote the personal narrative, I got the grades on my transcript, I spent my time doing everything on that 67 page portfolio. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it shouldn’t be me. I look around at all the exceptional people in my life and I compare. Not in the way that it “steals my happiness,” but that I admire other people’s skill sets. Izzy and Matthew’s writing style, and Abby’s ambition, and Damian’s photography skills, and Kathy’s mannerisms, and Bernice’s energy and Ash’s compassion, the list goes on, I want to “Frankenstein monster” these traits together and make it a part of myself.
The list goes on; there is something that I admire in everyone that I work with; I truly mean that. I read your pieces and I forget I am editing it… “Why am I your critic when I aspire to be like you?” I admire people so much, so I think about it, I write about it, and I want to carry that with me. I invite everyone who knows me, please be my critic as well.
So, the award. With that context, I want you to know that I struggle with praise, or vulnerability. I can’t tell if it is just me, most people or some people that feel this way. I see my classmates crack a smile when they are recognized when they do something that deserves celebration. Don’t worry, I smile too inside, but it is hard for me to celebrate on the outside when I know why I am there.
No, it is not entirely because of me, or my work ethic, or my “talent” (I hate that word) that I stand on stage with a scholarship or a plaque or a medal. It is because I looked up to someone who didn’t know I looked up to them.
Without the influence of others we are nothing. You can attribute that to be good or bad. I believe that nurture is the dominant influence in our lives. Without someone to show you the admirable, poised, socially-correct way to live and the bad, cruel, or lazy, self- absorbed way to live, you will never be able to make a choice for yourself. Without the influence of others, we are never given the chance to make something of ourselves.
It may make me a hypocrite, but please, embrace the praise, even if you hate it. Be proud because it means you did something well enough that others look up to you. Be humble, but don’t be so humble you forget why you shine.
