The obSession with achievement will be your undoing.

Even if you begin a pursuit with good intentions of fulfillment and value, it’s incredibly easy today to become obsessed with the puzzle pieces that do not matter, like what your success looks like on paper and quantity over quality. I know, you’ve heard those statements a hundred times. I had, too. But it doesn’t mean that I listened. Things would’ve been different if I had.

I can remember very well what life was like less than a year ago when I was trying to force expectations and routine upon myself. I woke up between 10 AM and 12 PM every single day after being exhausted from work and getting into bed between 2 and 3 AM. I had a lesson almost every single day– French, German, Spanish, Italian, Piano, and Voice three times a week. 

That sounds a little crazy when I say it like that, but give me a second to explain my reasoning and why I still feel like it could have been done. 

I worked off of the impression that I could try to replicate high school and come out smelling like a rose. Every day in high school, I woke up around 6:30, left for school at 7, and was there by 7:20. I would go through 7 classes (we later changed to a block schedule, but only after covid, and that entire transition was wonky to begin with). These classes were very diverse–from things I loved, like music and literature, to things I struggled with, like geography and history. So, if I could do that every day for 4 years (that is, a school day that takes seven hours)--why couldn’t I do that under my own supervision? In this case, I was only studying things I truly cared about.

A small author’s note here: My teacher and I hadn’t come to a full, congruent agreement about what my focus should look like. He wanted me to start an acting class soon, but he didn't find the importance of piano (I wanted to be able to accompany myself as well as… I just wanted to be able to play); he wanted me to focus on one or two languages, and, most importantly, wanted me to be listening to opera much more frequently. This is kind of a tell as to why it came crashing down, too. I’m very analytical, and my love of opera is almost entirely technique-focused. I only listened to opera to respect my teacher’s time and desires–but while I really adored certain singers, it was a chore for me.

I’ve always been fascinated by language. In my pursuit of opera, I didn’t just want to “sound” native. I wanted to learn the language and truly internalize it. Studying 4 at one time wasn’t my undoing in the slightest. I could keep them decently separated in my brain, and in some ways, studying them together helped more than it confused me.

I have always struggled with piano. Even as a child, when my parents had me in lessons, I hated practicing. I never had the “self-discipline” mindset placed within me as a child, which, to this day, I’m not sure is a good or bad thing. There was no sense of doing things you didn’t want to do, at least as a kid. I didn’t grow up with chores, and when I finally entered school, I had to learn how to study and do my homework all by myself when everyone around me had been doing it for years. 

My dislike of piano never morphed. During my brief year at college, I studied again, and this time, I had a practice log to fill out, so I did the absolute bare minimum to get by. This actually helped me a lot, and had I continued, I may have actually gotten somewhere with it. But then I moved to New York, and suddenly, I was my own accountability partner. That did not go well.

I played for my lessons, and I practiced as best I could, but the progress I made over about six months was pretty minimal.

Now married, I reached a breaking point at my job, and we decided to spend some time with our family in Virginia to re-set and refocus on what I needed school to look like. With the loss of income, I stopped all of my lessons except voice. I knew that I needed these languages to have an operatic career, and there were lessons I hadn’t even sought out yet that I needed (acting and accompaniment work, for example), but I wasn’t going to get anywhere doing it this way. 

See, the problem wasn’t the six teachers I studied with or my intense regime. You could even argue that it wasn’t because of my intense job and that I was so young and energetic that I could have handled it all. But one thing I know for certain is that I was not prepared to design this dream for myself, let alone follow through on it–and, to a severe (yet surprising) degree, I am glad it failed. 

I measured my success on quantifiable data alone. I had to-do lists for every single day, and if I didn’t check everything off of the list, then the day was a failure. It doesn’t matter if I had a great lesson, if I did well at an insanely stressful job, or if I cooked my own meals that day. 

Actually, here’s a copy of one of those schedules.

THURSDAY (working day)

6:50 get up, make coffee, start prayer

7:30 read

8:00 stretch

8:25 eat breakfast

8:35 go for a walk/run

9:05 shower and get ready

9:25 leave for practice room (with stuff for work)

9:30 voice practice

11:00 piano practice

11:30 eat

12:00 leave for library/cafe to study

12:30 study German

1:00 study French

1:30 study Italian

2:00 Italian lesson

3:00 leave for work, listen to opera on the way 

3:30-1:30 work

I was so proud of this layout. For someone obsessed with self-help and self-improvement culture (I am now, too, yet on the opposite end of the spectrum), this was my pride and joy. Imagine getting to tell people that you moved to New York all alone at 19, worked 40 hours at the best restaurant in the world, and had school for 35 hours a week. 

But I can count the days that I accomplished that to-do list on one hand.

And, at the time, that meant that all of it was for nothing.

My self-worth at the time was the result of 19 years of behavior–dependent on the things I accomplished, how quickly I accomplished them, and how much I accomplished. Not only that,  but my success was polar. Either I succeeded, or I didn’t. I wanted to be Superwoman and to do it all. That’s what I had internalized, meaning I was worth anything.

It’s been a long road chipping away at that mentality, and I have a long way to go. But it’s opened my eyes to a much bigger, deeper issue at play in society–the idea that we are constantly expected to achieve and exploit ourselves for our own benefit and to become the best version of ourselves. But really, who is it benefiting? 

As my entire life’s work up until this point seeks to answer these questions, this is the solution I can offer and that I wish I had known a year ago. 

We must solidify who we are on the inside and what our values are. Not our achievement values, like “I get up at 7 no matter how I’m feeling” or “I don’t eat dessert on the weekends.” No, I mean who we are if we were to stop achieving altogether. 

I have a question for you. Could you describe yourself without listing anything related to personal achievement or tangible gain? Who are you at the end of the day–not including your job, hobbies, or gym progress? Who are you in relation to others?

Without knowing it, I was perpetually antagonizing my own hamster wheel to “do enough” and “be enough.” That’s all I had ever known. Had I internalized these qualities and these questions sooner, maybe I would have found a way to healthily pursue my music and even work at such a prestigious place without it bleeding me dry. But, as I said before, I don’t think I was ready for it then–and not now, either. Rather, this entire experience has opened my eyes to something I was entirely blind to beforehand. All I can think of day in and day out is how much gentler my life could have been if I knew what I know now. 

I wish I could break down the atrocities in these belief systems in one blog post, but I can’t. I’m hoping to find the words soon. But everyone at one time or another has internalized the belief that “I can suffer now to gain later.” Is that what life is about? Is that what God, or whatever authority you serve, says life is about? If it is, then consider for a moment that you are following the wrong authority. 

Someone recently discussed this with me and said, “Society is this way because humans are this way. It’s just a reflection of us.”

I have a counter question for them and all of you–and the truth is, if someone does not want to hear it, then all of this is in our ear and out the other. 

“What if some of our inalienable truths as humans, like relation to others, joy, the love for beauty, pursuits that are intrinsically motivated, and the desire for security, were rather exploited by a society that wanted to use and manipulate our resources?”

Faithfully yours,

Anneliese Steele Taylor