Overachiever
I had to
make my little legs work hard to keep up with my older sister and her
friend. I walked behind them each
morning on the way to school because there was only room for two on the
sidewalk, and they usually talked about stuff I wasn’t interested in
anyway. We had only walked two blocks,
but my fear was already mounting. I
didn’t know where it came from, but it usually settled in my throat, and then
my forehead would tighten and begin to throb.
My face
was wet with perspiration and tears when I rang the bell. The door opened, and I thrust my small body
into my mother’s arms, sobbing, “I don’t want to go to school.” My mother was probably thinking, “Oh no, not
again.” This had become a pattern: A few days a week, I returned home 15 minutes
after my mother sent me off to kindergarten.
She would calm me down, reassure me and drive me to school so I would
get there on time.
When my
mom asked me why I didn’t want to go to school, she got an “I don’t know”
response or silence. But she could tell
that I was tormented by something, a fear so powerful that even a new Barbie
doll couldn’t make it go away.
Years later, my mother told me how she
scheduled a meeting with the school principal and my teacher, described my
behavior, and pleaded with them to help her understand why I resisted going to
class. My mother recalled the teacher’s certain response: “Your daughter is a
classic overachiever who feels she needed to know how to read and write before she started kindergarten.”
This
was the first time I was labeled an “overachiever.” While I’m sure my mother was relieved that my
fears weren’t caused by bullying or other social issues, what she probably didn’t
realize at the time was that the psychological impact of an overachieving
mentality can be almost as damaging. In my case, my desire to get straight
“A’s”, to do the best that I could in every endeavor, brought with it
self-doubt and an intense fear of failure that was sometimes crippling.
I’ve
often wondered why I am so hard on myself.
Why do I always need to perform perfectly and achieve excellence? What am I so afraid of? While we all behave in ways that reflect both
genetics and environment, I truly believe that my overachieving nature is
largely innate. Parental pressure was
not the source of my problem: While my
parents encouraged my sister and me to do well in school, they did not demand
top performance. They only expected us
to do our best.
“Overachiever” is an interesting term. Some
perceive it as the ultimate compliment, but like “overweight” and “overwork,”
“overachievement” implies “too much.” It hints of dysfunction. But can you really achieve too much? Like “overconfident,” “overachieving” is too
much of a good thing. My drive to excel brought me accolades, awards and
prestigious jobs. I was proud of what my hard work had produced. But my achievements did come at a great cost.
My
diligence in school earned me a place in an Ivy League university, which was
gratifying, and made my parents proud since neither one had gone to college.
When I entered as a freshman, I knew the competition was tough; I was going to
have to work especially hard to maintain my academic record. Four years later, I graduated in the top 1%
of my Wharton class and my dad still talks about graduation day when he heard
my name called out repeatedly for having received all sorts of honors and
awards. But, and there’s a big “but”
here, I agonized over every test, paper, assignment and presentation that got
me there.
Even
though I studied long and hard for each exam and had a consistent record of
doing well, I still believed each time I walked out of an exam room that I had
failed the test. Yes, failed. Not just “didn’t do as well as I had
expected” or “was surprised at how difficult the questions were,” but
point-blank “I think I failed.” Used to
my doom-and-gloom stories, my roommate casually deflected them with an “I’m
sure you didn’t do as badly as you think,” and Mom always reassured me over the
phone, “Honey, you know you tried your best.”
Although
it happened time after time, I was still shocked and elated when I saw that my
grade was not an “F,” but an “A.” I would glance at the top of my marked exam
and stare in disbelief: How could that
be?
I recall
a string of negative experiences that resulted from my incessant drive and
counter-productive self-doubt. But the most disastrous one occurred after I
landed my first job following graduation, a coveted marketing position with a
reputable company. It
was my dream job, only I convinced myself that I was an imposter and not as
smart and capable as the other college graduates hired at the same time.
Lack of confidence was the source of
my downfall. I became depressed and
unable to perform. I was so overwrought
that I would sit at my desk and mull over the same task for hours, unable to
clear my thoughts and figure out how to get it done. After some time, I decided to quit and go
home where I could recover. Learning
from my experience, my strategy in looking for another position was to find one
where I felt I was over-qualified and would surely be successful. It worked.
A few months later, I got a job with another large company where I
flourished and went on to have a successful and satisfying career.
Years
later, after taking time off when my daughter was young, I returned to work
full-time in a new job. Unfortunately,
my perfectionism and lack of confidence surfaced again. Being asked to present to a group of senior executives
had me shaking in my navy pumps. I
prepared my presentation well in advance and rehearsed it in my mind until I
had answers for every question that could possibly be raised. I lost several nights of sleep before the
presentation, envisioning the worst: standing
in front of the room, looking at my slides and forgetting what I had planned to
say.
Stage fright. Someone
challenging my conclusion with a point I hadn’t considered. Lack of
preparation. Still another finding
an error in my calculations. Sloppiness.
I’m
not sure how, but as usual, I got through the presentation and everything went smoothly. I was well-prepared, appeared knowledgeable
and confident, and later received kudos from my boss.
Luckily,
I learned some coping mechanisms. I
realized that action was a good cure for fear:
Starting quickly on a challenging task, something I worried I wasn’t
capable of doing, helped me recognize early-on that I could succeed. Rather than worrying
whether I was able to develop a thoughtful business plan, I jumped right into
an outline and quickly realized that my ideas were sound and I could access the
information I needed to complete it. I
learned how to move from fear and worry to calm and confidence.
In
my adult life, my perfectionist impulses spilled over into other areas of my
life. I second-guessed my parenting
decisions and worried about being the best mother I could for my daughter. When hosting holiday dinners for my extended
family, I prepared weeks in advance -- planning the menu, cooking and freezing
and creating a detailed schedule of when each dish needed to go in the oven and
be taken out. Two hours before guests
arrived, my family dispersed to the farthest reaches of the house to escape the
anxiety in the kitchen. Everything had
to be perfect!
A
few years ago, when my daughter came home for Thanksgiving she remarked how
happy and calm I seemed during the preparations. I had come a long way, knowing that if I
started early and kept track of the details, the outcome was predictable -
dinner would be delicious and everyone would have a great time, including
me!
In
fact, this is now the best way for me to maintain confidence when tackling a
project, personal or business– to think back over similar occasions in my life,
envision the positive outcome, and know in my heart that I am capable of
success. The key to accomplishing great
things and enjoying life is believing
in yourself.