Why I'm Awesome (Part 10 of 7,412): SPOON

I was talking to my uncle on Saturday night over the many courses of a superb French dinner at one of Shanghai's finest restaurants (called La Platane, near Xintiandi, if you know it). This uncle is my mother's younger sister's husband and he also happens to be the uncle with whom I get along best. For reference, he is father to the third-oldest grandchild on my mother's side of the family, with Lilienne and I holding the top two spots. There are many reasons why he is basically my favorite uncle, but the one that really stands out is the fact that he and I have probably spoken the most over the course of my more formative years.

[ This post is brought to you by foie gras, whose pronunciation is so heinously butchered by non-French speakers around the world, yet we still insist on trying to pronounce it the French way because "goose liver" just doesn't sound quite as appetizing. ]

My mother's family consists of her being the oldest sister, then her younger sister, and then her two youngest brothers (henceforth called Aunt #2, Uncle #3, and Uncle #4, which is approximately what we call them in Chinese). My mother has contributed two granddaughters (my sister and I) to my grandmother's quest for world domination, while her siblings have contributed a total of four granddaughters and two grandsons.

That's probably more information than you will ever need about my pedigree.

I pointed out to this uncle (who was in town on a business trip) that at one point, I felt there was a lot of pressure on me as the oldest grandchild. If you recall tales of my woes prior to this year, this was not uncommon for me; I felt pressure from all kinds of sources, with family sounding the loudest. Whether it was pleasing my parents, worrying about impressing my friends, or other such "voices" that I felt I had to answer to, I put an ungodly amount of pressure on myself.

I had to set an example for the younger grandchildren, I felt. However distant we were in upbringing or parenting styles, we were still linked by blood and I felt that I would be used as an example by my uncles and aunts to say, "Look at your dai biu ze ('oldest cousin who is a girl'), she has done well with herself. Successful career, etc."

Because of this, I felt an overwhelming need to succeed, not just at a career that would impress me, but that would impress them. I wanted to inspire my little cousins to strive to be the best, not because I wanted to be that inspiration, but because I felt that is what was expected of me: my duty as the first grandchild.

Then came 2007 and a very serious, honest, heart-wrenching look at who I am.

Ever since a particularly loud, aggressive, angry, argument-screaming, solid-objecting-throwing, tear-filled summer in 2005, I learned that my parents never wanted anything for me but happiness. I used to think that they wanted me to fill a certain mold: doctor, lawyer, engineer, consultant…something that sounded high-powered and impressive. When I was lost in my college years as to what I wanted to do, they would throw these suggestions at me and I mistakenly thought it was them trying to push me in those directions. In the end, I graduated with a Bachelor's of Science in Finance because I felt it was a fair compromise: it was a technical skill I could use in any career and it was something that my parents seemed to be all right with.

Turns out it was because they just felt I would genuinely be good at any of those careers and were just wondering if I was confident enough in my ability to consider pursuing them. Wracked with doubt and second-guesses, I couldn't quite see it that way.

Even with the shouting that took place that entire summer, it took a little under two years for the message to sink in: they really just wanted me to be happy. They weren't saying it because they felt they had to because they wanted to be good parents (which was my original thought, sickening as it is for me to think that badly of my parents), they were saying it because they meant it.

With that realization came an incredible overhaul in my personality.

I went from an individual who cared entirely too much about what everyone thought to becoming someone who really didn't give a shit anymore. I looked back on everything that my parents had ever said to me about my future, and instead of second-guessing them, this time I took it to heart with no strings attached.

They wanted me to be happy. I owed them nothing except the joy of seeing me be happy. I need only answer to myself.

I used to want to stay with my old company because I could picture my parents telling their friends who I worked for and being impressed…and my parents swelling with pride. That is, put very simply, a "Hong Kong" way of looking at one's career and parental pride. It's always based on how other people perceive and judge your status, never what you think of yourself.

So my internal renovation shrugged that cloak of shallow materialism off my shoulders and proceeded to hack away at anything that even came close to answering to anyone but myself. And it worked.

I now have a level of self-confidence that, two years ago, was probably the same level but in the other direction. Sure, I still feel insecure about my physical appearance, but I no longer worry myself to death over what goes on in my head, over where I am in life, over how I interact with people, over what people think of me, over my future. Yeah, maybe after meeting someone new I wonder if it could've gone any better, but I no longer obsess over it or punish myself for it. I simply make a note of it and improve the next time.

It wasn't easy, though. It hasn't been easy. There have been many nights where, doubt-ridden, I cried myself to sleep, wondering if what I was doing to myself was really worth it. If it was right for me to do it. I fought old mental habits viciously, damaging and healing myself with the same strike, sometimes to disproportionate degrees. I will not ever deny that it was hard. I don't say it because I want to impress you with how hard I tried and how I came out the other side in one piece. I say it because it's true. It's what it took for me to break twenty-three years' worth of mental barriers akin in size and scale to the Hoover Dam, armed with nothing but a spoon (an admittedly resilient one with a level of tenacity not unlike the stuff that lines my very thick skull, but just a spoon nonetheless).

And even after all that, I'm not done. I still feel intimidated by people who are of a higher "rank" than I am, be it career-wise or by socioeconomic status or by IQ score. But I can feel it changing. It's not as bad as it used to be. Instead of shaking hands and being scared to death about how I'm going to screw up, I'm shaking hands and approaching the situation with increasing confidence.

I remember that one day in May when I was just hanging out, walking down the street, and almost stopping in my tracks to say to myself, "Viv, you're done all right. I'm proud of who you are right now, of what you've become in such a short period of time. I'm happy with you." That was easily one of the very best moments of my life, to know that at that point in time was the first instant wherein I was truly happy with myself in all aspects. It was my own personal reward, I guess, for having come so far.

I didn't do it alone. I couldn't have done it alone. Sure, most of it was a conscious realignment of my point of view, but I did have the help of my friends, in whose eyes I saw a hint of they could see, and they made it possible for me to claw forward. I had the will and I made the start, and they helped me get ever closer to the finish line, even if they had no idea they were helping me out all along. Sometimes, when I stumble in my stride, they're the ones who put me back on track, usually with little more than just being around me.

My uncle told me he was so very proud of me for everything that I'd accomplished, and even while he said this, my mind was thinking "Pffft that's not so great, I can list so many people way better than me in that respect." Realizing that this was an old habit starting to surface, I gave myself a proverbial kick in the forehead, told myself to shut up and just listen to what my uncle was saying. He was proud of me, and he was telling me how proud my parents are of me.

And I promptly found tears in my eyes, because I guess everyone's always looking for a little validation from the people they respect the most; even if it's not needed, it's always nice to have.

I do still care about setting an example for the younger cousins because I know that my cultural heritage expects it of me. It is not for me to judge how my uncles and aunts raise their kids, but it is for me to do my duty by them as the oldest grandchild and be happy. If I am really out to set an example, why not set one where I live a happy life, doing what I enjoy most to the absolute fullest extent I am capable of reaching?

You could probably argue and tell me that I'm still under pressure to live a happy life, that I'm doing it because my parents want it for me or because it's expected of me. Sure, there's a small part of me that knows it's somewhat true, but that's no longer the only reason I am doing what I'm doing. I am the biggest reason why I do what I do.

My ideology, from start to finish, has been that while I still can and while I'm still young, I'm out to live my life for me. If I ever get married, if I ever have kids, they will then come first, so goddammit, I am going to put myself first for as long as I can, until I am good and satisfied and ready…then I can focus on my family, free of resentment or regret, prepared to make the sacrifices I know I will need to make for the good of their happiness, and put them first, where they belong. It's what my parents did for me, and it'd be pretty shitty of me not to do the same for their grandkids.

Really, all of this would explain why I'm very intolerant of people who bitch and moan and ultimately do nothing to solve their problems. I'm not talking about whining about the person on the subway who blocked your way as you got out of it. I'm talking about your own deep-seated issues that you can't seem to get over because you feel like they own you. You identify it as an issue but you don't do anything to change it; you surrender that this is how you are and that's just how it is and it's a necessary hardship, blah blah blah.

I will never, ever agree with that. If you don't like something about yourself, then get the fuck out there and change it. (And before you argue the point, it is entirely possible to keep what you DO like about yourself while changing what you DON'T like.) It's not easy, but nothing worth having ever is. It's hard and you may think you can't do it alone, but then, no one ever said you had to.

Sure you can frown at me and say "Look at Viv, tooting her own horn because she could do what she thinks no one else can, she should just get off her high horse. This is all part of growing up, god, it's not that big a deal." My response to that will be, "Hmm? What? And I should care…because I'm over here conversing with the people I give a shit about, and you are clearly not one of them, so just run along please, you're blocking out the sunlight because your horse is ever so much higher than mine?"

If it were really that easy to change, then why did I spend endless hours writing to or talking with so many people aged eight to forty-seven for so many years, helping them as best I could, listening and learning to what really goes on in people's heads?

Never once will I ever tell you to change something about yourself, because I will always think you are just fine the way you are (even if I appear not to think that, I really do think that), but if you don't like something about yourself, if YOU are the one who wishes that part of you was different, then I will always be here to help you make whatever change you want, even if it's just a shoulder to cry on if the tears come, even if it's just a few rows of comforting text popping up on your IM screen, even if it's just a hug or a winning smile.