This is my college admissions essay which received an outpouring of love and praise from people in my community, and got me into every college I applied to.
The dress I wore to my 8th grade recognition banquet was emerald green with sparkles. I made my mother have someone do my hair in an outrageous updo. I cried 5 minuets after she finished because I didn’t look like myself. But, I did look like the girl who deserved to earn every award imaginable in 8th grade.
After all these years of being allegedly perfect, I was going to finally have the attention I deemed myself deserving of. When my name was called for the highest academic achiever, most improved basketball player, and most improved volleyball player awards, I elegantly rose to my feet and accepted my award… well, as elegant as an 8th grader in heels can manage. I sat down, pleased.
Then, my name was called again. A pit rose in my stomach, sacred that I had done something wrong.
“Sadie,” my friend next to me nudged my arm, “go get the last award, it’s yours!”
I nervously rose to my feet and was handed the Servant Heart Award.
This was four years ago and I’m still confused.
I love when people see me serve. What a painfully honest statement. The weight of its wrongness rings louder after it’s been written down. This statement echos in my mind in every spare moment, taunting me with my own sin. This concept, this idea that fills my head and captivates the most hidden aspects of my heart, is the fact that I don’t think I am capable of genuine service and humility. In the last 4 years, I have accomplished a great deal of things. Or least I thought I had. However, instead of true achievement, all I am left with is the impending sense of doom that I only am so willing to give myself away because I want people to view me as humble and selfless. I jump at every single opportunity to help other people, to volunteer, and to go out of my way to serve someone. I wish, more than anything, that that could be the end of the story; that I am a simple, selfless girl. But after the task is done, my mind drifts into its’ terrible habit of pondering how the most recent service improved other people’s perception of me.
When these thoughts first began, I went to my English teacher whom I respect and trust more than most people. As I discussed this topic of impossible humility, he smiled saying, “Sadie, you’re too good for your own good.” I walked away from that conversation frustrated. Was I too obsessed with being “good”? Are humans not called to do good? Are we not supposed to serve others? Should we still do so if we truly only do so to boost our ego? My fixation with being viewed selfless has turned me into the most selfish version of myself. I can still feel my heart glow when I help someone— the way it used to be when I was younger. But now, that glow has been dimmed by a darkness that places a shadow of my vanity over the needs of others. I have written songs, poetry, and spent countless hours talking to myself in hopes to found a solution, an answer, anything.
Impossible humility captivates me still, but I am not going to let it control me. As I grow older, I hope to meet more people like my English teacher and find new things that guide me in understanding this concept. My heart was made to serve, but I don’t want to be selfless for myself. I’m dedicating myself to continue to confront this idea and discover how to serve genuinely. It is worth it to me. Even in writing this, I am plagued by the thought that spending time trying to address this concept within myself is selfish. And maybe it is. I’m not sure, but I will know soon.
2021
