(Ex-) Gifted Child
PREFACE
“Intrinsic” value precedes fulfilment of external expectations.
Ore, a fellow writer whom I admire, has with so few words in her most recent post, managed to unravel and unsettle me so deeply, that aside immediately playfully letting her know on Twitter, I felt a “confession” was in order. Now more so compelled, since I do not feel alone anymore: which is all it takes to not be too hard on yourself sometimes.
But God forbid I bore you with a detailed autobiography. Not all stories must be grand. Consider this one in particular like small-chops for your hungry eyes.
“Rest here Traveller, use this one hold body”, that kind of thing.
Ore has indeed started a chain reaction of self-forgiveness, healing and growth. No struggling young adult reads her work and leaves the same.
If this were a book, then my single acknowledgement for it goes to her.
Intro
While it is painfully obvious that I am gifted [if you know me], what isn’t openly clear, is that I am struggling with school work, because I’d much rather be doing something else—other than writing agonizing lab reports and listening to melatonin-infused lectures for a degree I quite frankly have zero intentions of immediately doing anything with—like playing football happily, as I’ve always wanted.
This is on top of the fact that I'm working several jobs to finance myself through school and life in general: a hardship that would easily be alleviated, if I didn’t have to worry about my grades.
Truly, I love physics as much as your average Sheldon Cooper; it is to me by far the most elegant of all the sciences.
But have you ever gone through with something, knowing right from the start that you are wasting your time; knowing that misery awaits you from the very beginning up until the end?
For you it could be a relationship, or a job, or an investment, or a trip…or a degree, like me.
It is from precisely this general perspective and for similarly situated [gifted] people, that I shall be expounding on the crux of Ore’s beautiful exposé: that, not everything good for the Goose is good for the Gander. And that some things are only beautiful from afar, and meant to be beheld thus.
My first pipe dream was a bicycle, and my Dad sold it to me.
It was the first time I realized that not even meeting these “high expectations”, guaranteed reward.
NB: if what you are “rewarded” with, doesn’t correspond to the amount of labour put in, or even what was promised, then it is not a reward, it is compensation.
Sometimes, you don’t even get this “compensation”. Sometimes you get precisely nothing out of your toil, especially in a malignant system like Nigeria.
My mind has always been nomadic. I could be perfectly still on a chair and be on Mars in my head. I am a serial daydreamer.
I remember teachers always telling my parents on Open Day: “He is an intelligent boy, but he is playful and always distracted”. Snitches, those lot.
But it was true though, and it was what made my first shattered pipe-dream all the more upsetting: Effort.
Picture someone that hates reading, now studying like a mad dog for a bicycle, then graduating with the best grades out of primary school [which was the condition for the reward], and getting precisely nothing: not even a bicycle wheel, not a bell, not a saddle, nothing. Picture how that must be…upsetting. Sorry, traumatic.
Rome wasn’t build in a day, and neither was my apathy for school.
Apparently, Adults could decide not to hold their end of a bargain.
But from a kid’s perspective [and honestly, anybody really], you must understand how this is as incomprehensible to them as your maths teacher saying “2+2 is no longer equals to 4, it’s now 5”.
Except now, the maths teacher threatens to beat you, should you try to question their authority.
“…but you promised?”, I said.
“or am I dreaming?”, I thought.
But fast-forward to senior year of high school, and as if I hadn’t had enough, I was sold yet another pipe dream, betrayed with my childhood aspiration to play football professionally:
“Finish with a good WAEC result, and we will enroll you into the Pepsi Football Academy”.
I was that good. I am that good.
And so I finished as one of the best students: seven distinctions out of nine, if I recall correctly.
But of course, I was not enrolled into any Football Academy of any sort after graduating. What was I expecting? Silly me.
In essence, I was constantly exploited academically, to produce great results, reaching out for validation after validation, only to be compensated with “the roof over my head” and “food in the fridge” retorts.
You must understand how this kills any sort of motivation to do more than bare minimum, because, what is the freaking point?
Saving arc
Looking back now as an Adult, while trying to work on a better relationship with my Father in general, it is highly possible that my parents just couldn’t afford these things, but didn’t want me to lose interest in school either.
For that, I truly sympathize with them, but then the damage is done isn’t it? I now live with a huge mental block, that I must somehow unlearn, when it comes to conventional learning institutes. And let me tell you, it is hard.
In all of this, by the way, I suspect ADHD is a co-culprit too. But I’m still waiting on a diagnosis appointment, we’ll see.
Moral of the Story: do not lie to kids. They are impressionable, not dumb.
Appeal
If your dad rarely acknowledged you;
If you had unsatisfiable parents that still scolded you for getting 95% on a test;
If you repeatedly got overlooked despite your excellent performance and conduct;
If you have had to pull out of any application process or school, due to insufficient funds, despite your excellent grades,
If your current financial situation doesn’t reflect your intelligence or hard work;
If you’re currently unemployed in your field of specialization and have had to become an entrepreneur to make ends meet;
If you’ve given up on your dreams because of kids, or your health, or again, lack of funds;
Then it is easy to become a people-pleaser and a perfectionist, constantly seeking external validation like crack;
Then it is easy to sink into hedonism and seek gratification and pleasure in other fleeting things, sometimes even, in other broken people;
Then it is easy to see yourself as a failure;
Then it is easy to develop Imposter’s Syndrome;
Then it is easy to always sell yourself short;
Then it is easy to not want to exist, because, “what is the freaking point?”
But my dear traveller, you don’t have to prove yourself to a world that doesn’t deserve you.
Stop the rat race.
Summary
“I do not feel alone anymore: which is all it takes to not be too hard on yourself sometimes”
Recently, I’ve met a woman I quite frankly wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with. And she, at the point of tears, made me see that I have been selling myself short.
So, maybe it is time for you to take a step back as well: out of that pointless relationship, or job, or investment, or degree.
Maybe it is time for you to stop being afraid to switch careers to something you actually love: I cannot make that decision for you, we must all choose our own parts and paths in life.
But I’ll say, whatever you end up choosing, and wherever you end up going, so long as it brings you happiness, live with zero regrets.
Life is way too short and too unpredictable to die in tears.
But in the meantime, while you transition from things that don’t make you happy, to things that make you happy, find joy in the process…get a babe.
Jk, but you get my point.
