#aka a stream of consciousness abt ara & her self worth issues

[beautyqucens]

atychiphobia

noun. abnormal and persistent fear of failure, to the degree that it has negative effects on the pattern of one's life.

i. it is your birthright to fail. as your parent’s only child, there is no one to pick up your slack. no one to distract when you stumble. elaine and nathaniel move from the city that never sleeps to a cozy small town. one that you’re not sure is ever awake. they want the picket fence and the family picture perfect on the mantle. your father wanted a boy, you’re pretty sure. your mother? she was thrilled to find out they were expecting a little girl. beautiful baby clothes bought before you were even born. she can’t wait to play dress-up with her new doll daughter. you were to follow in her footsteps. probably left on the doorstep of some orphanage if you weren’t the most popular toddler in your kindergarten class.

ii. luckily, kids aren’t very meticulous with their ranking. you had friends and that was enough. you get to see another day! you’re enrolled in every extracurricular program your mother could find as soon as you’re old enough. ballet was first. back when you still thought your mother doing these because she loved you. it was fun. gymnastics next. every time your leotard needs replacing, it does. every time you want new shoes, you get them. rose-tinted glasses, you think this is the life. they’ll go however far you need for competitions. for beauty pageants. they care, they support you. they push you because they love you. it pays off because you win.

iii. it’s a formative memory the first time you don’t. it wasn’t even a loss, really. it was second place. if you were being honest, you liked the girl that won. you guys got along amazingly behind when you were off stage. away from the artificial warmth of stage lights, there was the genuine kind between friends. it softens the blow. don’t worry, your parents will compensate for that! there’s no congratulations, no mention of being proud of her regardless. your mother reminds you there’s no such thing as a participation trophy. you want to scream. i didn’t just participate, i came second! you want to throw a fit and cry, lash out like the child you are. you don’t. you get into the car and the drive home feels twice as long. you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater and ignore the disappointed glances your mother makes through the rearview mirror. you try to sniffle as quietly as possible. convince yourself that the way your dad turns up the radio is for your sake as well as theirs. you won’t let it happen again. no matter how many competitions you win after that, you’re never able to clean your slate of that night.

iv. high school is terrifying. it’s a universal truth that the night before your first day is anxiety-inducing. at least, you’re pretty sure it is. you rise before the sun on your first day. sitting in front of your vanity, you’re doing your makeup while your mother straightens your hair. today is important, bella. you’re not a child anymore. you know she’s not concerned with your education. it’s not important because it’s a new chapter of your life. it’s important because high school is perhaps the peak of teenage social ranking. you have your safety in val. there’s no need to claw your way to the top because you’ve been attached at the hip since you were children in ballet classes. that doesn’t make it less terrifying. it does make it less lonely.

v. you’re underestimated. it’s something you learn to weaponize while you’re there. nothing more than a pretty face, right? those who want to swoop in and play the hero to your damsel in distress. or the ones that never assume you could be calculated and vicious. she’s an airhead, not the mastermind behind anything. everything comes on a silver platter. luckily there’s no such thing as a fear of peaking in high school. you don’t take any risks once you’ve settled into your routine. you’ve got your friends and your place on the cheer squad; that’s all you need. you can’t fail if you never try. you’d never call that a ‘negative impact on your life’. it’s not like you were sheltered. you still went to parties, had friends, made memories. just from your comfort zone. from the perfect pedestal your parents had placed you on.

vi. applying for college was a truly terrifying time. there was no way to do so without stepping into uncharted territory. you claim you don’t care, but your hands tremble as you open acceptance letters. you’re only worried because you don’t want to spend all day listening to your mother harp on at the flower shop. because frat parties are way more fun than high school parties. the truth seeps in. because you don’t want your friends to move on without you. because getting rejected was getting rejected. it’s a foreign concept in your life. your parents don’t even want you to go to college, but you’re sure they’d scream at you for getting rejected. like some ugly spot on what was meant to be beautiful. you can’t fail if you never try.

vii. surprisingly, you get in. the amount of pride you feel is lame. not to mention quickly overshadowed by your mother’s dramatics of leaving her to slave over the flowers alone. hire someone else, elaine! bella is going to college. even if it’s just for some ‘stupid easy a course’. it was just the formal adult version of gossip, and you knew how to gossip. you knew how to take vile words and coat them in honey. much like when you’re talking to your professor. after the realization you might actually enjoy this subject, effort levels in class changed dramatically. turns out wanting to stick rose thorns into your eyes wasn’t a side effect of the working world, just your mother. you were trying, and like proving your family correct, you were failing. never called on by your professor, never taken seriously. he doesn’t even set his pen down when you ask him why. the scribble of ballpoint pen against paper is the soundtrack to a new rock bottom. “bella, i’m trying to not waste everyone’s time.” he won’t even look at you when he says it. suddenly, you feel like a child standing in front of your parents wanting to throw a fit about being second. i’m here! i got into this class like everyone else did! but you didn’t back then, and you don’t now. that wouldn’t have been pretty. what are you if not pretty?

viii. rebellion is a slow process. well, getting everyone else to acknowledge your rebellion is a slow process. it’s subtle at first. it’s putting bright red dye over the highlights in your hair and your mother shoving a bottle of head and shoulders shampoo into your hands after some frantic googling. it’s darker eye makeup and style. it’s exactly like a pretty girl’s attempt at a spiral, but you’re not. at least, you wouldn’t call it that. it’s the most in control of your life you’ve ever felt. like you’re only now taking the training wheels of your mother’s suffocating love off your bike. now, the fear of stumbling is even greater. you don’t want to have to go back home with skinned knees and hear your mother talk about how she knew you weren’t ready to go off by yourself. you no longer wait to be called on in class. when a question is asked, your peers politely raise their hands while you blurt out an answer. you are trying to be better. you will not fail.

ix. it takes a while to settle into your new self. no longer just the shiny trophy on the mantle. you wear clothes that you like, that are comfortable. you’re not about to start looking like a bum, but the pressure to be perfect was becoming such a tacky accessory. gone and buried alongside bella, still wrapped around her throat like a necklace. you don’t have to worry about that anymore. you’re holding the shovel. you’re breathing. for your parents, it’s a worst-case scenario. they are praying for your failure, and though it drives you, it also terrifies you. how do you go on if you fail? how do you cram newfound wings back into the small cage you used to live in? they try to convince you to quit while you’re ahead, but you refuse. you can be so stubborn when you want to be. a trait swallowed down your entire life coming out full force now that you’re not going to let your beauty speak for you.

x. dani logan is a missing person. you’re trying to interview people, but coolsville is stuck in their rut of not taking you seriously. someone put a stack of fliers on top of your special quotes clipboard! it was grade a bullshit until danny swept in to save you. there’s this new level of responsibility on your shoulders. honestly? you’re scared of buckling under the weight of it. not that you’d tell anyone. wasn’t this what you wanted? to be taken seriously? to get involved? there was no way that came without strings attached. a life could very well be resting in the hands of danny logan’s ragtag group of misfits. which is about as promising as it sounds. didn’t your parents ever warn you about trying?