All
my life, I’ve been driven by a deep desire to be exceptional in some way. To stand
out from the pack and to change the world in a grand kind of way. Deep down, my
worst fear was cruising through life in a state of mediocrity, and maybe it
still is to this day. So my actions and the things I aspired to were often
driven by this deep internal fear. So much so that when I actually did reach a
particular milestone or accomplished something worthwhile, I would never bother
to pause and recognize my accomplishments. Once I did reach a particular goal,
it would feel trivial, telling myself I could have and should have aspired to
something bigger and better. And when others pointed out my accomplishments and
praised me for it, it would mean absolutely nothing because I really I was not
convinced I’d accomplished anything worthy of praise and attention. Sadly, none
of the things I’d strived for and reached fit the idea of “something grand” I
had in my head. So I kept going through the different stages of my life never
feeling like I’ve measured up to something, anything.
The thing is, I never knew what it was I was trying to measure up to. I still don’t. And I don’t exactly know where this feeling comes from but if I’d to guess, I’d say my mother may have had something to do with it. Growing up, my petit, 5’2” mother was a larger-than-life character. And she left this impression with everyone who came into contact with her. Some respected and revered her, and many were overly intimidated by her. My mother was a fierce, determined and feisty woman. She rarely showed emotions and was not the type that dwelled in self-pity. Growing up, I don’t think I’ve ever heard my mother saying “I’m sorry” or “I need help”. Nor was she the type to offer praise freely. In fact, it was nearly impossible to impress my mother. Regardless of how well you might have done something, it could always have been done better. Not surprisingly, she held herself to the same standards. She especially had low tolerance for laziness, gossip and sloppiness. And in many ways, her character served her well because an illiterate single woman, raising four children in a foreign country was no easy feat. When you’re always in a sink or swim mode, you don’t have the luxury of exposing weakness or dwelling in couldas, wouldas, and shouldas. Her motto was: suck it up and march forward. But at the same time, I think the very same character that enabled her to persevere and ultimately become a successful business woman and raise successful children also deterred her from enjoying her accomplishments and milestones. I never realized that being strong and tough could also be a flaw until now.
As
long as I could remember my mother was (and still is) my ultimate role model. I
admired and consciously emulated her strength, feistiness and high standards. But definitely unconsciously, I’ve also picked
some of her less admirable traits, including stubbornness, perfectionism, and
her “nothing is good enough” tendencies. Of course it wasn’t until long after
entering adulthood that I started to really see this other side of my mother.
And the realization that my mother was not the flawless woman I venerated all
my life was in some ways shattering. Yet, it was also this very realization
that finally freed me. I recognize now that all my life I’d been striving to
become something worthy of my mother’s approval, not realizing that this was an
impossible task regardless of what I do achieve. And although this makes me a
little sad, I’m so grateful for this insight. I still look up to my mother and
I’m thankful for the positive qualities I’ve inherited from her, but I no
longer seek her approval or validation, and I’m making conscious effort to live
up to my own standards and celebrate my many accomplishments along the way. Yes,
my mother is an extraordinary person who’ve overcome great challenge and
accomplished impressive things in her days, and I’ll continue to honor her for
it. But realizing that my mother is imperfect like the rest of us have been a
huge load of my back. It means that I don’t have to keep her on a pedestal
anymore. Up to this point in my life, attempting to live up to my perception of
my mother’s standards has served me well – it propelled me to achieve many
firsts in my family and I’m proud of the person it has made me. However, as I
enter a new chapter of my life, it recently dawned on me that it is no longer
my mother who drives my life now.
Since becoming pregnant with my daughter, the things that motivated me to succeed have changed. I no longer have the desire to be the best for my mother’s approval or for the world to recognize my achievements. And I no longer have that excruciating yearning to change the world in some grand way. I no longer want to sit on Oprah’s couch for the grand interview anymore. None of that matters anymore. And no, it’s not because I’ve resigned or that I’m not ambitious anymore, quite the opposite actually. I still have so many things I want to accomplish and new heights I want to reach, but the motivation behind my aspirations is not about seeking external recognition and validation anymore – not from my mother or the rest of the world. I don’t quite know how to describe it, but with my pregnancy I’m starting to find a sense of inner peace I’ve never felt before. So in a way, I’m now motivated by the desire to be the best mom for my daughter, but I’m also motivated by a deeper longing to finally feel good enough for me and my own standards. My ambition is a lot calmer and I find myself wanting to become someone that my future daughter can be proud of but never have to try living up to. I want her to live up to her own standards and always feel like who she is IS good enough. That’s the only expectation I’ll ever have of my daughter.
