I recently stumbled upon the term “gifted-kid burnout” while I was scrolling through Twitter. The internet defines it as someone who was labeled “gifted” in childhood and ends up “depressed, anxious shells of their former selves in adulthood instead of the high-achievers they were supposed to be.”
Now, I’ll try to not make it sound like I’m bragging, but I’ve been through the same thing. I know this isn’t really a major problem compared to the pandemic and rights issues, but judging from countless conversations with friends, this is a real thing that happens to kids and can affect them through adulthood, like it did to me.
There was a time when I was the “smartest” kid in elementary school, but I don’t know if that was true or if I was just a probinsyano kid privileged enough to be exposed to the dictionaries and encyclopedias that my seaman father brought home as pasalubong. Nevertheless, the grades were nothing to complain about. Math was a bit hard but not as big of a problem as it is now. School was easy. Life was easy. I was at the top of my game. (Some people peak in high school. I peaked in elementary school.)
As the test papers with perfect scores piled up, so did the amount of praise I got. Compliments like “Baw, kaalam nga bata (My, what a smart child)!” and “Pwede ni mag-doktor o abogado (He could be a doctor or a lawyer)!” became ordinary. I gave a meek “thank you” every time I heard praises like that, which is something you’ll probably never hear me say if you give me a compliment like that now. These days, it’s either “Luh, pataka (Nah, you’re crazy)!” or “Baw, indi man ah (Meh, not really).” Or something along those lines.
Of course, it’s not inherently a bad thing to praise people for their accomplishments. In fact, I think we need to praise people more often so they feel good about what they do, and also because we should normalize being comfortable with giving compliments instead of normalizing insults. It’s just that, since we all have different stories, personalities, and ways of reacting to things, I don’t think praise registers the same way to everyone.
In my case, it turned me into a people-pleaser. This basically meant that the only way you know you’re doing a good job is if you get praised for it. It might even turn you performative, and do well more for the praise you’re going to get out of it. You don’t feel any sense of satisfaction when you do something good when no one is watching, because there’s no one to praise you for it. And you get so afraid of disappointing people so you stay in your own safe little bubble where nothing bad is going to happen. You try so hard to get people to like you; altering, accommodating, and adjusting your personality to be likeable. Your moral compass, if you even had one, revolves around being seen as a good person and not actually being a good person.
The first time I got a grade of 85 percent in Grade 7, I had a complete meltdown. It involved a bathroom breakdown, an in-denial phase that had me staring at the grade slip hoping the number 8 would somehow turn into 9, and some more tedious, dramatic, embarrassing teenage angst that need not be mentioned. Looking back, I don’t think it was ever about the grades. If it were, there would have been a more catastrophic, full-scale breakdown when I got a 78 for general mathematics in senior high school. The difference? Perspective.
I’d have to admit: You don’t get that much amount of praise and not get an inflated ego. I didn’t spend much time studying at home during elementary school. I just naturally got good to perfect scores, even without reviewing. I might’ve even thought I was a supergenius or something. So, yes, my study habits (or lack thereof) were to blame for that grade of 85. I’m not going to deny that.
But the reason that hurt so much was because I was so afraid of the perceptions of people who thought highly of me. I felt like a failure. That’s where the attention issues come in. I might’ve started thinking somewhere down the road that only those who do commendable things are the ones deserving of attention and praise. When I started underperforming, I didn’t feel like I deserved that attention anymore. The adult me finds it awkward to be in those situations, especially when it involves expectations of living up to my overachieving potentials in my younger years. And sometimes I do miss that glory, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore.
I eventually accepted that I wasn’t ever going to get a high grade in math again. But despite the disappearance of the fear of low grades in my mind, the tendency to be a people-pleaser never really went away. In fact, it expanded to other areas of my life, to the way I interact with my friends, the way I love people, the way I present myself in social media, and possibly in other areas that I haven’t realized yet.
If you’re like me, you probably don’t realize it, but you’ve programmed yourself to seek validation from other people— that your happiness only comes when someone is happy about you and what you do, that you’re only useful when someone needs you, that you’re only pretty or attractive when someone says you are, and that your value in social media, an economy of attention, is weighed by the amount of reactions you get.
These are things I believe I will always struggle with. But I guess the secret to contentment is to realize that the only person you should be pleasing is yourself, and your happiness is something you give yourself. At the end of the day, you’re the one living your life and not other people. You don’t owe them anything. As the cliché goes, life is too short to not prioritize your own happiness.
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Neil Lencio, 20, is from Dumarao, Capiz. He is a second year student at the West Visayas State University in Iloilo City, and a staff member of Silak Media, the college publication.