This afternoon I spent a harrowing hour biting my nails and waiting to hear the test results. No not another test on my heart or broken brain. In fact this test wasn’t even anything to do with me! I was waiting for my son to finish his placement test for what math class he’ll end up in next year. He’s already in the advanced math track so this test would simply determine whether he got into advanced-advanced math.
When he finally emerged from the testing center I was struck by two things: How tiny my 11-year-old still looks and how the expression on his face was exactly mirroring the expression on my own.
This test had everything to do with me.
“How did you do?” I asked a little too eagerly.
“I don’t know yet,” he answered with the same edge in his voice, “but the proctor said I did better than anyone else today.” And then he broke into a huge grin made even sweeter by his outsized teeth and smattering of freckles. “Aren’t you proud of me, mom?” He held up his hand for knuckles.
My heart caught at the question. “Of course I’m proud of you sweetie!” I exclaimed. “You’ve always been my smart boy!” And then I stopped, reliving a million similar conversations when I was the one with the freckles and buck teeth. (Okay I still have freckles and buck teeth.) “I’m so proud of you for trying so hard,” I corrected myself. “I know how hard you’ve been working and studying this year. And that’s what’s important – what you learn, not what math class you end up in.” (Because when I’m feeling insecure I really like to hit hard with the theme mallet.)
But I’m not sure if he believed me. I’m not sure if I believed me.
When your children are yet unborn all they are is potential. You don’t know anything about them, what their strengths are, what food they’ll hate, what people they’ll love, what worlds they will build. But once they’re born they start the process of moving from pure potential to actual human beings. And it can be hard for us parents to make that transition sometimes, especially if our self worth is tied up with theirs. It shouldn’t be – I know that – and yet it’s hard not to feel personally invested in something you’ve poured so much time, energy, money and love into.
“He really is a mini-you,” my husband chuckled when I told him about the test.
He waited for me to smile but I couldn’t. I don’t want that for my son. I don’t want him to go through his whole life thinking that if he just tried a little harder, he could be truly worthy, not realizing the finish line is always moving. It reminded me of another lesson from that parenting class I took at my church last weekend – the teacher had cautioned us to not let their brilliant, beautiful potential make us miss the brilliant, beautiful people the are now. I don’t want him to think that I love his potential more than I love him.
“You’re not living up to your potential.” Those are probably the scariest words anyone has ever spoken to me. I’ve spent my entire life running as fast and as far as I can, always trying to reach that elusive goal. It seems like I should be able to do it – after all it is my potential – and yet I never quite get there.
I was a child prodigy, sort of. I was reading at a college level by second grade. I have never gotten anything less than an “A” on anything in my life. I graduated early, was valedictorian of every graduating class I’ve been in and had my bachelor’s degree by 19, my master’s degree by 21. I say this not to brag — on the scale of child prodigies I rank somewhere between “middling” and “challenged” – but to explain the driving motivation behind my entire life. When you start out that fast, you expect to keep going at warp speed.
My teen years were a blur of trying to always be ten steps ahead of where I was. I couldn’t be thin enough or smart enough or fun enough to represent the real me. College was worse. I ended up giving my valedictory address with an IV catheter still taped to my hand because I’d worried myself literally sick about what was next. I’d had to go straight to commencement from the hospital where I was being treated for a variety of stress-induced maladies ranging from a severe kidney infection to panic attacks to an ulcer to raging IBS.
Instead of feeling proud of my accomplishments, I was terrified. Because the corollary of “you could be so much more” is “you aren’t good as you are now.” And if straight A’s and scholarships and slim hips weren’t good enough then what was I going to have to do to get there? Could I possibly do anymore? Perhaps I was just dumber and fatter and lazier than people realized. Maybe I was already at my full potential and they were the ones who didn’t get it. But I didn’t dare tell them lest they be disappointed in me. How do you top a lifetime of hyperachievement?
So instead of becoming a NASA scientist or a celebrated artist I became… nothing. Seriously, I had a breakdown. The impetus was a devastating miscarriage at 20 weeks but all that really did was sever the last anchor tying me to sanity. I spent four months holed up in my apartment playing endless rounds of puzzle games on the computer and listening to melancholy Spanish music, waiting for my husband to come home and tell me what to do next. (See, even in my breakdown I was still trying to improve my spacial and linguistic skills haha!) I wasn’t working. I couldn’t carry a baby to term. Heck, I couldn’t even eat without puking half the time (my IBS was that bad). I couldn’t get over my disappointment in myself. With all that potential, this is what I do?!
Eventually I pulled out of it by volunteering at a battered women’s shelter. I did the most menial clerical work. I cleaned bathrooms. I organized files. I wrote hundreds of thank-you cards to people who had donated money to the shelter. I rationed out diapers and bus tickets, wiped noses, listened to the every day woes of the women. It was marvelous. It taught me how bad some other people have it (and how they handle it with so much grace) but even more, it humbled me. I learned that I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was (or as smart as everyone else thought I was) — indeed, I was normal and that was okay. I was still me.
Normal gets a bad rap, frankly. Nobody wants to be described as “average” or “ordinary” or, heaven help you, “just fine.” People would rather be anything but normal, no matter how awful the alternative – a fact that Miley Cyrus has banked her entire career on. But what is so wrong about normal? From a weight standpoint, normal is the best place to be. It is the very heavy and, oh yes, the very skinny who have the highest mortality rates. Unlike in fashion, if you are interested in good health, then there is such a thing as too skinny. From a life standpoint, while we laud the exceptional, normal has a lot to recommend it.
I’m not saying that people shouldn’t be encouraged to maximize all their talents. Achievement is good but it’s not everything. Rather, I’d like to see us encouraging people first to be happy, to be healthy, to be kind to others and then to look around for what to do next. It took me a long time to notice because they are not often acclaimed but the happiest people I know are not those who are the skinniest or the smartest or the highest-paid or even the most talked about. But they are the wisest.
I realized tonight that I did end up exactly where I wanted to be. I may not have a Nobel prize but I have four amazing kids who are growing into four amazing individuals, a wonderful husband who understands my quirks, friends who care about me, a house to keep me warm and a job I enjoy. I am happy. And I’m happy because I didn’t get what I thought I wanted.
Similarly, for my own children I have learned to define success a little differently than I did for myself at their age; the only thing I want them to achieve is true happiness. Granted, that’s a pretty nebulous concept and there are many different paths to happiness but if their road doesn’t take them through Carnegie hall I’m okay with that. So tonight when I was tucking my son into bed I told him, “I want you to know that I love you simply because you are you. You don’t have to earn it or prove it. You can’t lose it, even if you try. I love your potential, but I love you even more.”
I hope he believed me. I hope I believed me too. Sometimes wanting so much more for someone means accepting so much less.
“I love your potential more than I love you” — How many times do we say this to our kids, to our spouse, to a friend? To ourselves?? Anyone else ever struggled to balance achievement with just being?
*After reading this, I imagine many of you will think I grew up with a Tiger Mom and Dad but honestly I put all this pressure on myself. They were (and are) loving and supportive parents and I’m blessed to have them.
Great post Charlotte. I read Portia de Rossi’s book Unbearable Lightness last week and it was a harrowing experience because it reminded me of my “lost” youth. I never really enjoyed being young and didn’t do most of the things other people did and certainly didn’t have much FUN.
Portia de Rossi also didn’t seem to have much fun when she was in her 20’s despite being a cast member for Ally McBeal. All she thought about was performing and not being thin enough.
I was more or less straight-A student in my youth but I never lived up to my potential. What is really scary at age 45 though is my unlived life, not just the squandered potential.
Besides, I think that no one really reaches their potential in all areas of life, simply because to do that in one area of life you have to make sacrifices in other areas of your life. You can become a top athlete, and that is pretty much all your life consists of.
I love this of yours Satu: “Besides, I think that no one really reaches their potential in all areas of life, simply because to do that in one area of life you have to make sacrifices in other areas of your life. You can become a top athlete, and that is pretty much all your life consists of.”
So true!
(And I quoted it below!)
Thanks Satu! I read Portia’s book too and was surprised by how much I liked it and related to her – body image issues are pretty universal it seems;) And this: ” I think that no one really reaches their potential in all areas of life, simply because to do that in one area of life you have to make sacrifices in other areas of your life. ” is an excellent point. I needed that reminder today!
This of yours Charlotte: ““You’re not living up to your potential.” Those are probably the scariest words anyone has ever spoken to me.”
So lets drag THAT fear kicking and screaming into the light and learn something about that fear that will take away its power.
When one truly thinks about it, it would be FAR FROM PREFERABLE to have reached your entire potential say, yesterday…with nothing more to look forward to.
This quote from Satu: “Besides, I think that no one really reaches their potential in all areas of life, simply because to do that in one area of life you have to make sacrifices in other areas of your life. You can become a top athlete, and that is pretty much all your life consists of.”
True.
When you are considering your potential IN ITS ENTIRETY you are also speaking of your capacity for hope and faith and love and caring and sharing and serving and kindness and appreciation and gratitude and humility and happiness and joy…
…and learning.
And our spiritual selves will never reach our entire potential in this life.
That’s for the next.
Oh Charlotte. (hugs) I definitely have the tendency to look at my own overachieving childhood compared to other people’s overachieving childhoods and then feel inadequate when mine don’t match up. Working on it. Baby steps. My first instinct is to be like “but but but, my home life was a mess and we moved every year, I could have done xyz if blahdeblah.” This is ridiculous.
And like you, I have a sensitive 11-year old boy who just wants to make everyone proud of him and I have to Watch Myself. It’s so hard to negotiate wanting them to go out and doing their best, and letting them know that whatever their best is, it’s good enough.
One of my biggest lessons as a post-college adult is that no one cares. No one cares what grades you got, or what college you went to, how many activities you did. They care about who you are now, and how competently you can do the task at hand. And there just aren’t many clearly delineated activities as an adult to go be a rockstar, to go get that A. Which is a lesson to me. That whole system that we grow up in is contrived. It’s not real.
We need to be present, and just do our best, and know whatever it is, it’s good enough.
And this of yours is so very wise Sarah!
“One of my biggest lessons as a post-college adult is that no one cares. No one cares what grades you got, or what college you went to, how many activities you did. They care about who you are now, and how competently you can do the task at hand. And there just aren’t many clearly delineated activities as an adult to go be a rockstar, to go get that A. Which is a lesson to me. That whole system that we grow up in is contrived. It’s not real.”
Profound.
*hugs*
Glad to know I’m not the only one that thinks through this stuff! This: “They care about who you are now, and how competently you can do the task at hand. And there just aren’t many clearly delineated activities as an adult to go be a rockstar, to go get that A. Which is a lesson to me. That whole system that we grow up in is contrived. It’s not real.” is so eloquently said and exactly what I needed to hear today! Thank you Sarah:)
I think you summed it up so well: “We need to be present, and just do our best, and know whatever it is, it’s good enough.”
Darwin, that was a wonderful post. Thank you.
You are so very welcome Milady!
I am so glad you enjoyed it.
Oh my, this really hit home with me. I remember going to community college at 15, and when someone in my class found out my age she said, “Where are you gonna go after this? Harvard?!” Everyone thought I was going to be amazing. I never wanted to be, though. I never wanted anything, really. I never had a “dream.” I tried to fake one, though. I also remember crying over an A-. I ended up dropping out because I was so depressed I cried in the parking lot instead of going to my classes.
I hate how everyone talks about college like it’s literally the best thing you can do for yourself. Like you’re an absolute failure if you don’t. Going to college was a very bad experience for me. Going back to school three years ago was literally the worst decision I have ever made. I was at my most mentally ill during that time, hurting myself constantly, barely able to get out of bed.
I remember when I worked at a grocery store, perfect strangers shopping there would stop and ask things like, “You’re going to college, right?” or “What’s your major?” Like I was was a complete failure for working at a grocery store. When I said, “No,” this one lady assured me, “Oh, don’t worry! You’ll get a chance to go back eventually!” As though I has hinted I wanted to!
I’m now at a point where my depression and anxiety are better than they have ever been, even as a child. I’ve been thinking about going back to school, just a bit, no pressure. Just get a small certificate as long as I have a fee waiver (I’m not wasting more money!). But it suddenly hit me that i don’t want to tell anyone I’m going back to school. I know what they’ll say, “Finally!” “Good for you!” “That’s a great decision!” They will see that I might actually be “good enough” one day. But, why can’t I be good enough right now? I want to be good enough, even though I don’t have a job or a degree.
Cavy YOU MOST CERTAINLY ARE GOOD ENOUGH RIGHT NOW without a job or a degree.
Anybody who says differently doesn’t know what they are talking about.
If you do choose to add a certificate then you will be Wonderful Cavy…with a certificate.
If you do not choose to add a certificate then you will be Wonderful Cavy.
Kind of like Wonderful Cavy with shoes and Wonderful Cavy barefoot.
Its all still Wonderful Cavy.
Wonderful Cavy . .. I think I may take on that as a title! Thank you. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me 🙂
You are most welcome Wonderful Cavy!
The title was already yours!
You just have to embrace it!
There are so many of us aren’t there?? I think we should start a support group: reformed overachievers;) And you absolutely are good enough right now – good for you for knowing what you need and taking care of yourself. I’m so so happy to hear that your depression and anxiety are doing better, that’s huge!
Oh Wow this sounds exactly what my friend is dealing with right now. Her son’s girlfriend had a break down during exam week and has been in the hospital for a long time now. It is really scary how fast and far she deteriorated from this super competent woman that had a hand in every pie and had it all under control to a person that seems like a child now.
As a child I don’t know if I would have listened well enough to my parents to get the message that the effort put into a task was worthwhile on its own. I think I mostly just heard positive or negative and am I in trouble.
This: “As a child I don’t know if I would have listened well enough to my parents to get the message that the effort put into a task was worthwhile on its own. I think I mostly just heard positive or negative and am I in trouble.” has given me a lot to think about today. Thank you so much for this perspective Cindy and I hope your friend’s son’s girlfriend gets better soon!
I was deeply moved by your words. Very well said. I am awed by your honesty and your admission to not being a perfect parent, which is why I’m sure that your son will grow up to be a great kid. Knowing that you care for him as much as you do and still take time to step back to analyze how you’re making him feel is enough a sign to say that your kid is in good hands. Don’t pressure yourself too much, you’re a great parent.
Thank you Kevin – this means so much to me today! Seriously, thank you.
For the longest time, my modus operandi regarding myself was things were either completely perfect or total crap, nothing in between. Nothing was good enough unless it was perfect, with perfect being whatever I decided in my head was the benchmark. I didn’t hold others to this standard, just me. And then, 14 years ago, my son was born with cerebral palsy and my idea of having this precocious baby who would put the Gerber baby to shame was completely blown up. All the potential, or expectations about him going to college, getting married, being excellent at something exciting were all tossed out and instead I had doctors yammering in my ear about what he wasn’t going to be able to do and making scary predictions about his future. And things that seemed like givens when I was pregnant, that he would walk, that he would talk, that he would eat solid food, all seemed questionable. For awhile I was completely mired down by it all and just plain sad but eventually I came to recognize that even typical children don’t come with any guarantee that everything will go exactly according to plan and that instead of hanging on to all the doctors and specialists predictions about what he would and wouldn’t do, I was going to just let him tell me, over time, what his potential was and is. Along the way, I have discovered that there is a tremendous beauty to be found in letting go of expectations and ideas of “perfect” and to instead just be in the now with the future open ended. We celebrate what we in the special needs community refer to as the “inch stones” and his potential is a question mark so I love him for the now and it is simple and unfettered and perfect in it’s own unique way.
Um, I’m bawling right now Heather. Thank you so much for sharing your and your son’s story – your words are so powerful. I wanted to pick a favorite sentence to quote but I couldn’t – I love this whole comment so so much. I needed to read this today. Love you!!
We were a lot alike growing up, except where you took those leaps I held myself back. I didn’t skip kindergarten because I didn’t want to be the youngest in 2nd grade (yeah, they wanted to skip me two grades). I took minimal classes my senior year (both high school and college) because I didn’t want to graduate early. I think it might have been wanting to hang onto normal, just a little bit.
I also freaked out after school ended but in a slightly different way – I had zero idea what to do with life beyond tests and grades and people telling me I was smart. I went from an honors BA degree to running into walls 80 hours a week as a temp (in games) for 9 bucks an hour. No longer was I a special snowflake and it kinda crushed me. I’m happy where I ended up, because I AM smart and capable and worked my way up, but I could just as easily still be a waitress somewhere because school gave me zero clue what to do with my life.
Honestly, I still have no clue what I want to do when I grow up. Seems like a crazy thing to say at 35, I still have ~30 years of professional life still ahead unless I hit it big and can retire early. I’ve only been at this for 13 years. I’ve got about 2/3 of my career to go!
Total tangent, but that’s my thought for the day.
What’s wrong with being a waitress?
Nothing at all, sorry I implied there was! I just didn’t love doing it in college (but it was good part time money so I stuck with it) and was excited to move onto doing something else when I had the ability to take full time work.
(although, I’ll admit, some rough days where I work now, I feel a little nostalgia at the work my shift, and go home and not think about work aspect of it…)
I’m never surprised anymore by how much we have in common;) Love this: ” I still have no clue what I want to do when I grow up. Seems like a crazy thing to say at 35, I still have ~30 years of professional life still ahead unless I hit it big and can retire early. I’ve only been at this for 13 years. I’ve got about 2/3 of my career to go!” I totally get it. I’ve switched careers three times now and every time it was to something I didn’t expect and hadn’t planned for. Everything I tried to make happen didn’t work. I think the universe may be trying to tell me something;)
“And I’m happy because I didn’t get what I thought I wanted.”
This reminds me of something my screenwriter teacher said (back when I took a few screenwriting classes – convinced I had the potential to write The Great American Screenplay) – a tragedy is when the protagonist gets what he wants; a happy ending is when he gets what he needs. True.
Ha, that’s brilliant! Your teacher was a great man/woman!
Thank you for this post, I think I needed it. My oldest daughter (7 yrs old) doesn’t finish work because she’s day dreaming. Forgets to bring homework assignments home. She could do much more but doesn’t. But I need to remember to let her know, I love her because she’s awesome. She lights up a room with her bounce and her smile, she makes friends in an instant, is willing to try just about any activity and gives the best hugs. I need to let her know, she is amazing, no matter what happens.
I remember always being told I could do better if I tried hard and how frustrating it was to hear because I did try. I’ve always vowed not to say that to my kids, but I’ve probably been giving the same message in other ways.
So thank you for this post. I needed it.
And thank YOU for this comment – I need it. Your description of your daughter made me grin. Being a mom is so hard sometimes but it sounds like you’re doing a great job! Your daughter is blessed to have you:)
Awesome post, as usual. I was also an overacheiver, straight A’s then… nothing. No big career, like my sibs. I didn’t make any Major Contribution. And now I’m almost 50. I’m still not sure what I’m going to do with my life and I still feel like I haven’t lived up to my “potential”.
But your post made me rethink that. I’ve actually done a lot. I’m really pretty happy, I’m in good health, my two sons are doing fine… and there’s still lots of time to explore new things.
Also, I totally understand what you mean about it being hard not to get sucked in to the acheivement thing with your kids. I projected my own perfectionistic issues onto my kids. I felt like my ability as a parent was reflected in how well they did. I put too much pressure on them. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done was to let go, let them take responsibility for their own studying and decide what they wanted to study in college, and not get upset when their grades weren’t stellar like mine were.
The most important thing you can do for your kids is to just love them for who they are, and take the time to listen to what they care about, what they think about, without overlaying it with your own anxieties, interests, worries, whatever. It sounds like you’re doing a great job of that. Just thinking about it like you’re doing is a major step in the right direction. They’re so lucky!
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