Zazu is my youngest daughter. She is the smallest among myself and her sisters, but only in her physical stature. My two older daughters, her father, and I love Zazu as she has come to love herself.

Zazu is all eyes

Head-on

When I was three years old, my mother and father divorced. At my mom’s home I received cookies and milk, special time, and walks to the park.

After school snack

At my dad’s house I was treated with a wonderful breakfast every morning, mud baths in the backyard, and new toys. My life was seemingly perfect. However, behind the facade of brand new gadgets and momentary love from my family, inside, I was a gasping for attention, no matter how much I had already received.

We Three

In school, I wore the brightest clothes and performed the highest on spelling quizzes in attempt to allow my excellence to shine. However, this perfection was not for my own purposes – all I wanted was for others to see it.

Getting Ready

As I grew older, the spelling bees morphed into academic accolades of new and higher levels and the brightest clothing turned to the most trendy. I wanted everyone to see how regardless of my struggles, I could still appear and be perfect.

Best Friends

But, the struggle to maintain this level of superiority became difficult to maintain as I began to compare myself more and more to those around me. In second grade, the most you have to compare yourself to is the know-it-all girl sitting next to you. In high school, she’s still the know it all, but now she’s beautiful as well. I still remember sitting outside on the cracked green steps of my home in Venice, calling my best friend, Brooke. We were seven years old at the time, the beginning of my phone call making career. We chatted for a few moments before I could stop myself from saying, “Don’t you ever feel like Sarah’s perfect?” Sarah was the genius of the class; the one who tied with me for the highest scores and who always arrived to second grade just a few minutes earlier than I. I could never beat her. A moment of silence passed until I was confronted by the response I least anticipated, “No, I’ve never felt that.”

Twisted

I didn’t understand it then, but now, as a creep into my eighteenth year, I see that not only was Sarah never perfect, but also, no one else was looking to see if she was. Even as an eight year old, I held myself to impossible standards, constantly critiquing not only what was I was doing, but what I was doing in comparison to everyone else.

Team Player

I have played volleyball for nearly six years. I have come to realize that it is a purely mental sport. Walk onto the court. Make a mistake. And suddenly, all eyes are on you. Walk onto the court. Score the point. And suddenly, all eyes are on you. It’s the easiest sport to understand from an outside perspective because regardless of whether someone knows the sport or not, they can see when you miss the ball, or likewise, when you hit it so hard the girl on the opposing team has blood leaking onto her jersey. It is the easiest sport to compare players everyone wears spandex, everyone has ribbons in their hair, and everyone is sweating, everyone working hard, everyone trying to win.

Part of the Team

It’s the time of day that I dread, and look forward to most. Does she look prettier than I do as I make that play? Did she serve that ball tougher than I did? Do people think she’s better than I am? When the coach compliments her, he’s really just insulting me. When he tells her she set well, he’s really telling me I set poorly.Except for the fact that he’s not. What I hear is not what is being said. For my entire life, I have seen others achievements as my failures.

Some Days Were Sad

I am stuck inside of my three-year old mindset, aching for attention where I feel lacking. Wanting to be acknowledged by both parents because inside, I felt lonely.I am nearly eighteen years old and it is just now that I am realizing that regardless of whether or not Sarah is perfect or not, I can still thrive.Regardless of whether my best friend is better at volleyball than I am, I can still score. Other people’s strengths do not dictate my own.

Laughing out loud

My three-year-old self may not understand this, but as I approach my college journey, I intend to teach my current self that only my actions command my success.