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essays:self_analysis [2019/05/28 20:04] zashi |
essays:self_analysis [2019/05/28 20:11] zashi |
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| I think because both my parents were of middling intellect, the fact that I showed a propensity for learning and academic achievement lead to praise and acknowledgement. This was really the only thing I recall my parents being especially, outwardly proud of me for and thus my entire identity became "I am smart" and anything that provided counter examples to this (losing at an intellectual game such as chess) drove me to great pain and frustration. | I think because both my parents were of middling intellect, the fact that I showed a propensity for learning and academic achievement lead to praise and acknowledgement. This was really the only thing I recall my parents being especially, outwardly proud of me for and thus my entire identity became "I am smart" and anything that provided counter examples to this (losing at an intellectual game such as chess) drove me to great pain and frustration. | ||
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| + | Anything less than an 'A' was an attack on my identity. Anything that showed I wasn't the smartest, drove me to great pains and my self-worth suffered. Any reminders of fallibility, imperfection, or inadequacy drove me to tears. Perhaps to the outside, it seemed like I was competitive, but internally I was fighting for survival. | ||
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| I, as a child, perpetually felt in the way and to survive I just made myself scarce, invisible. Being invisible felt (and still does) safe. If you don't try, you can't make any mistakes was one of the main lessons I got from my mother. She'd rage at me that I acted like I was a guest in the house because I didn't read her mind and do the things she wanted me to do automatically. But even if I did things proactively, I either did them wrong, or she accused me of lying and made do them again, so the best approach was always just to avoid her, let her yell at me to do something, then get it done as quickly as possibly. This approach earned me the venerable title of "lazy." | I, as a child, perpetually felt in the way and to survive I just made myself scarce, invisible. Being invisible felt (and still does) safe. If you don't try, you can't make any mistakes was one of the main lessons I got from my mother. She'd rage at me that I acted like I was a guest in the house because I didn't read her mind and do the things she wanted me to do automatically. But even if I did things proactively, I either did them wrong, or she accused me of lying and made do them again, so the best approach was always just to avoid her, let her yell at me to do something, then get it done as quickly as possibly. This approach earned me the venerable title of "lazy." | ||
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