When My Expectations Become Impossibly Unrealistic —Shattering The False Standards I Create

I’ve always felt inadequate. I compared methods and thought I’d never do what others could. But perhaps it was an illusion I created myself.

The Perpetual Bar

I’ve been convinced I could never do anything right. I saw an infinite realm to explore technical or creative works, yet I only focused on my failures. 

Achieving the magic that came with a craft was impossible for me. I dabbled with my naivety, only for the endeavor to disappear as I’d never reach the point I wanted.

Much time has passed since then. I’ve progressed in many areas, met more people, and been exposed to varying environments. While I still feel far from achieving my goals — the journey feels within reach.

The standards I held myself to constrained me. I created these false guidelines in my mind, denigrating anything that didn’t adhere to them as invalid. 

This phenomenon started in my school years. I’m sure it’s a common feeling — when a solution to a problem is so simple, you can’t believe it’s right. I must’ve missed something, so I convolute my thoughts until I correctly arrive at the wrong answer. 

When I write, sometimes I see repeated words and lose my head. I think my work is unreadably messy when a paragraph is four lines instead of three.

I read others’ lengthy syntaxes without a problem though. I notice, but it doesn’t agonize me when“The” leads three consecutive paragraphs, or a sentence drags on.

Yet it’s the end of the world when I frame my own work.

In writing fiction, I sought to choose fitting names for female characters, but I fixated on the fact they all ended with an “-a” suffix. I thought this detail meant I lacked any creativity whatsoever.

But I soon noticed this repetition in other works. Hell, some have 5 “-a” names. Sara and Emma and Camila and Lila. Many girls’ names end with that sound, just as many boys’ names end with “-n” (Justin and Nathan and Darren and Flynn).

Or what about popular superhero names? Names like… Bat-man. Superman. Aqua-man. I never noticed these weren’t exactly rocket science to figure out, yet those names didn’t bother me either. 

Tons of town names are a person’s surname prepended to “-ville.” 4 states in the U.S. are literally just the word “New” added to the name of an original region. 

But nothing felt off when I referred to them. 

Comprehensive audio processing was a necessity for good music production — so I believed. I slapped on EQ, compression, stereo separation, and saturation. I followed exact numerical tips and ruined the sound entirely. 

Turns out, what worked for me… worked for me. If no frequency cut at 500hz or limiter on the entire track was needed, then I didn’t need to add it to adhere to some arbitrary technical “must.” 

Perhaps putting every instrument in a single audio pattern is disorganized, and copy-pasting notes isn’t a true composition. But the results are better than whatever mess I created before.

Character art is an endeavor I thought was impossible for me. There were too many variables, so many minute details and placements. I abandoned the prospect of trying again years ago. 

Through continued exposure to the processes of art, I discovered interesting insights that led to starting again last month. 

I envisioned needing to do everything at once, which paralyzed me. That’s not the case — there are intermediate steps. There’s the linework, then the base color, then the shading, and other fine details.

There are steps within the steps too. Hair isn’t just hair, there’s the back, the front, and the sides. The result is the combination of those three elements, and I could focus on the individual components. 

It was astonishing to discover how a single solid color largely comprises a piece, and simple strokes add depth to that base. Even my haphazardly placed shading didn’t look too terrible for an amateur.

Certainly leagues above what I thought was possible for me. 

Drawing neat lines looked like magic. Whenever I drew, it was jagged. How the hell did others do it? 

Well for digital art, there’s a brush setting called “smooth,” which as one expects — smooths out any variation in the stroke. As soon as I set a value, I could achieve that clean shape I wanted. 

Even then, my handwork wasn’t perfect. But if the line still looked off, I could erase it and try again. Again, I thought I needed to go from 0 to 100 in one step, so I used to plow forward despite the unworkable foundation. 

It was difficult to break that mindset and press the undo button, but I took that step back. If the next attempt didn’t work, I’d erase and redo it. If it still didn’t work, I’d retry again. 

I would repeat until I got the line right — even if it took dozens of tries. And by accepting to fail, it was now actually possible to achieve what I wanted. 

But surely, this was cheating. This wasn’t real work.

To reference other photos, and use computer assistance to straighten my lines. Redrawing over and over was just a matter of accidental luck, not skill. 

True artists would draw from intuition, and plaster a masterpiece onto the canvas in a single swipe, would they not? 

The answer I found, turned out to be… no. 
Quite the opposite. These were actions most artists took. 

I sent a work-related email introducing someone to a project but addressed them as a similar but wrong name. This was the first time I’ve ever done this. I realized immediately after, but to my dismay, the “Undo Send” button was nowhere to be found. 

I probably should’ve worn my glasses. So I quickly wrote a follow-up apologizing for my typo/mistake… and used “sent” instead of “send” in the second sentence. 

Yeah, I want to die now.

They simply responded with thanks to the original message. I’ve improved at emotionally processing my mistakes, but that wasn’t always the case. Every perceived wrong was a travesty, and they would surely end my life. 

I was convinced people in the so-called “real” world were perfect, stoic beings. That couldn’t be further from the case. Everyone is still human, emotions still exist, and mistakes happen. 

One time in a meeting, I finished explaining a feature I implemented, and someone else asked if we could implement what I just described. 

So I repeated that the feature was already done, and they apologized for spacing out. But there was no issue — I didn’t lose my mind and start yelling.

I recently got a rejection email for a postbaccalaureate internship at a national lab. It was very personalized and nice — the PhD explained what they liked and why they chose the other person, and would let me know if any other opportunities crop up. 

It was addressed to another woman’s name. 

A second email, 3 minutes later, explained how they were mortified of the mistake and hoped I didn’t think their message was merely a template email. 

Yet again, I didn’t lose my head. I found it quite humanizing. I decided to reply to thank them and reassure them it was alright — as I knew I wouldn’t stop thinking about it if it were me.

Which it is as of this morning…

I can continue ad infinitum with more anecdotes. I’ve always imposed harsher standards exclusive to myself, believing my mistakes and shortcomings were greater than anyone else’s. Why was it different for me?

These restrictions evolved into an impossible task, where the only “right” choice was to give up. But those constraints were self-imposed. With further experience, I’ve realized my obstacles are not insurmountable when I believe in my processes and have the means to discover them.

I fixated on getting everything right the first time, avoiding failure, and adhering to an absolute, predetermined path. But this only ensured subpar work and a total impasse. 

I compared to others, pedestalizing curated narratives of perfection, and missing the struggles and flaws that came with their own stories. With a regulation like that, it was inevitable to become hopelessly frustrated.

Nothing was as bad as it seemed. My struggles and worries were never unique, and my ideas weren’t as uncommon as I thought. I’ve found these experiences are shared amongst others who are just as human as me. 

There’s a path I can take to achieve what I want, and while it may loop differently or vary in length — they end at the same destination. 

I’ve replaced my expectations with a simple goal, after years of crushing standards I’ve imposed on myself. 

Do what feels right at present — and move forward. 

To find direction in a confusing world and cast aside notions that there is no route to progress. In an unequal universe, some endeavors are difficult, and succeeding to the extent I imagine isn’t always possible for me.

But what I do have is my perspectives and experiences. I can navigate my work utilizing those the best I can, discovering points on that path at my own pace and style — one incomparable to any other entity. 

In contrast to my past hopelessness, I’ve been surprised to see the impact of thoughts I felt were too simple or asinine. Intuition felt mindless, which had to mean groundless. 

However, this was my greatest strength after all. Acting by me, despite my perceived deviance from convention, to explore my wrong or suboptimal ways, I hope the surprises continue. 

The outcome may be more significant than one could ever expect.