I did. Maybe I still do.
Traumatic memories of my teenage nervous breakdown were triggered while watching Michelle Obama give her last commencement speech as the first lady of US. Speaking to the graduating class of City College in New York, she recounted her experiences as a dean of a college. The students there came from privileged backgrounds with everything provided for them. However, she shared (at 17:57 minutes), “when some of them got their first bad grade, they just fell apart, they lost it, because they are ill-equipped to handle their first encounter with disappointment or falling short.” This was me.
I studied at one of the top secondary schools. I was faring fairly well. Leading up to the year-end exams, I was seized by panic attacks. I was unable to sleep and felt nauseous when I ate. Day and night felt the same to me – a blur. I was having a nervous breakdown. I was worrying about what would happen to me if I got a bad grade, if I did not advance to a good class, if I did not get into a tertiary institute or if I did not get a good job and excelled in it. The 14-year-old me was fearing my imagined doom when I was 30.
Not only was I a perfectionist, I had a huge ego that refused to accept the shame of failure. I was over-critical, punishing myself for every shortcoming. I did not acknowledge myself for who I am. I despised me.
Why was I so harsh on me?
I sought the approval and acceptance of others. I wanted to be respected and looked up to. I wanted to be seen as a success. I am one of the youngest in my generation. Most of my older cousins excelled in school, had natural creative talents and were successful in their careers. I felt they would look down on me if I turned out to be a nobody. I can’t vouch if this is true since none of them ever told me this themselves. I bet if anyone of them was reading this now, they would give me a good scolding. I just couldn’t accept me for who I am.
I just hated me.
I felt fat. I felt ugly. I felt out of place. I felt I did not fit in. I felt I was insufficient as an only child. I felt like I already failed before I even begun. I could blame my parents for everything (which I still do in fits of spite and anger. Yes, hi, I am a human, learning). However, I know they are doing the best they can. Their own parents probably did the best they could too. Now, I try to take responsibility for myself.
I did not sit for the exams eventually. I was exempted and put through the next grade by an enlightened principal who told me to go on a holiday. I did. I also went on an anti-depressant. Prozac. Experimental at that time, now commonplace. My mood stabilised after a few months and I went off it. Yet, my life did not become perfect. I only redressed the symptoms, I did not address the core issue.
This cycle of devastation from self-imposed pressure and unmet expectations thus repeated itself with greater severity after each setback, which reached its lowest point with a suicide attempt. For some reason, I was to remain here. This time, I was determined to recover fully by all means.
The first help that came to mind was the psychiatrist, again. This time, I was on Lexapro. I did not feel as low, yet I did not feel completely fine. I was irritable most of the time. It felt like the drug was giving me the very problems I was trying to solve. It felt like it was doing more harm than good. Counselling was not an option as I was too stubborn to hear what someone who did not go through what I went through had to say. I weaned off the drug on my own and got alternative help. From anti-radiation solutions, bio-resonance and crystal therapies to energy healing like medical intuition system.
The best help I got was the one where I learnt to help myself.
I was retrenched from my corporate job one Friday. My heart dropped, but I was not about to let it stop just then. Suicide was not another attempt I wanted to make. I stumbled into the work of Louise L. Hay at a wellness fair that Sunday. Emblazoned on the booth were these words, “For who are seeking a career with a deeper meaning & a way to help others.” The very words I had been telling everyone about the dream job I wanted. The entire fair was selling products, this was selling me a job. Strangely (or synchronistically), just two months prior, I received a book of hers as a birthday gift. Her name on the book did not register in me then. Upon chancing the booth, this memory was triggered. Unsure if the name on the book and booth was the same, I Googled on the spot. Seeing it was, I took it as a sign.
I promptly signed up with the trainer at the booth to be a trainer in Louise’s work. It took me to India and a leap of faith because of the horrific rape stories coming out from New Delhi. I still went as I was desperate for lasting change. This sage of a lady taught self-help techniques that were profound yet so simple and practical. “There is only one thing that heals every problem, and that is: to love yourself”, she teaches. I finally learnt for the first time.
My life shifted after, and it still is – healing is a journey. I am now on my new path as a life coach, a business trainer and a workshop teacher. I cannot say with absolute certainty that I will sail through setbacks without pain and tears. Now that I know why I fear failure, I can face it head on if it comes my way again. In fact, there are no failures, just lessons.
Do you fear failure? Find out why.
Image credits: http://tinyurl.com/gvvxzd6