My parents are a perfect example. Of course they love me, but that provides little reassurance, because they also love my sister, who is the devil incarnate. They would love me no matter what. But would they accept me, along with all of my shortcomings, no matter what? I really don't think so. I don't say that to be malicious, that's just how I feel. Accepting me means appreciating me for what I am, not for what I could be if only I tried hard enough.

Could I be a straight-A student? Yes, and I have been, but I'm not always. Could I juggle a full course load, an internship, a volunteer position, and work on the student newspaper at the same time? Yes, and I have, but I can't always. Could I be thin and appear to be in total control? Yes, and I have been, but I'm not always. Sometimes I get excellent grades, and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I can do a million things at once, and sometimes I can't. Sometimes I'm thin, and sometimes I'm not. It's easy for my parents to accept me when I do well, but can they accept me when I don't?

Can I accept myself when I don't do as well as I know I can?

So what do I want from the people around me? Less criticism, less pressure, less judgment...less negativity. I don't want to be reminded of my faults; I know what they are. I don't want to be told that I should do better, because I have done better in the past. I don't want to be told to keep climbing higher, to keep striving to do better. I want to be told that I can be happy right where I am, instead of always reaching for the next rung on the ladder. I want to know that I can be satisfied with what I am achieving right now, instead of always trying to achieve more.

I don't want to be afraid of failing. I don't want to be afraid of disappointing anyone. I can't be 100% all the time. I need to know that that's okay. It's not about living up to my parents' standards. It's not even about living up to my own standards. It's about living.