When I grow up, I want to be worthy 💔
Entry#59 on childhood traits that twist into perversely useful habits...
Entry #59
No-one chastised me for failing to enjoy ironing my husband’s shirts in entry 58, so it appears my Mum is still unaware that I write Friday Flow. With my cloak of invisibility tentatively fastened, I feel safe to write about my childhood today - and in doing so, answer a great question from a reader.
“What trait from your childhood has continued to be most useful to you?”
This one got me thinking.
I really didn’t reflect on my childhood all that much until about the age of 35, when I realised I had enormous gaps in my memories. There were no stand-out events, it was a comfortable, privileged childhood, but somewhere along the way I did develop a trait of fastidious attention to detail and fussiness that became what I suppose we’ll call perfectionism.
I had a little routine for how I brushed my teeth at night.
If Mum dusted my bedroom while I was at school, I would freak out if my ornaments had not been put back in the correct place.
I was academically able with a large capacity for memorisation - so schoolwork was ‘easy’, yet I felt enormous pressure to be excellent in all things, all the time.
I don’t know what my parents made of me, but I do know I desperately wanted to please them and make them proud. I don’t know if I ever felt sure that I was achieving those two goals - and I don’t know if they really knew how to communicate their satisfaction or pride in a way I could hear - so I kept trying.
Side note: I am the first born. With the hindsight granted from being a parent myself now, I can see that the first born holds mysteries that are hard to navigate for new parents. Every new stage is, well, new and uncharted. I am sure this is a significant factor in how I created an attachment to perfect outcomes - and innocently, how my parents couldn’t see that this path was unfolding within me.
Here’s an unexpected fact from my teen-hood. So desperate was I for recognition from my Dad - and despite a clear gift for foreign languages - I dropped German and took A-level Maths, Physics and French so I could apply for Astrophysics at University and then join the Air Force as a fighter jet pilot. Yes, that was my actual plan. I think I was trying to be an awesome son, or maybe a very successful daughter in a tiny niche?? Not sure…
It didn’t work out so well, thankfully. At some stage during my twenties I began to let go and enjoy the ride a bit more.
So this trait of perfectionism, crushingly high self-set expectations and desperation for recognition and visibility has become…. hyper-productivity, I guess.
Photo by Magda Ehlers.
What’s useful about hyper-productivity is that this trait is very much celebrated and rewarded in modern workplaces and career structures. I will do what it takes, work the hours that are needed and devote endless thinking time to the projects, clients and activities that make up my business and my family life.
I’m a good girl, in many people’s eyes.
In terms of task completion: I get a lot done, I pay close attention to a multitude of details, I remember and track components in a very organised way.
In terms of people skills: I listen well, I am attentive to stakeholder needs, I anticipate scenarios and think ahead, I strive to communicate clearly and fully to keep people in the loop and involved.
So here I am, a child perfectionist that has morphed into a hyper-productive adult. These traits have ticked the box of recognition and visibility, but you all know the shadow side. Whilst I high-five myself for all the things I manage, juggle and achieve, there’s still a little girl in there who would like to put her feet up and feel safe enough to take a break for an hour. Or get a pat on the head from Mum and Dad.
Don’t cry for me, I am blessed with the awareness to see this theatre playing out. I just wanted to answer the question and do some reflecting. Thanks for reading thus far.
I hope something in today's entry was helpful or hopeful. As always, I look forward to hearing what you heard, saw and felt when reading this.
With love,
Michelle xx