After my fifth harp lesson, I began to seriously consider quitting altogether. It was getting frustrating because I expected so much more of myself. Even more jarring was the prospect of having to purchase the $5,000 harp that I was using. I couldn't bring myself to spend that money on something that I know I wouldn't excel at. So I found my desire to learn to play the harp just for the sheer fun of doing so, clashing with the reality that my time and money might better be served doing something else where I can for sure be "numbah 1". Guilt started to roll down my forehead coupled with the anticipation and self-fulfilling prophecy that my parents often laid on me: that I can never finish what I set out to do.
That's when it hit me.
That's the reason why I get paralyzed when I attempt to do ANYTHING.
Filipino culture can sometimes be comical. One will often hear parents brag about their kindergarteners who "graduated" from their class as "first honor". Or graduating from elementary school as valedictorians.
Often, my relatives or family acquaintances would ask me,
"What number are you in class?"
Number? No, it's not a student number that they're interested in. What they mean to ask is:
"What is your class ranking?"
If you are a true well-bred Filipino child who did everything right, you should be able to say:
"Ma'am, I am number 1 in class!"
If you don't and can't, you are a loser. It's this all or nothing game that, unbeknownst to me, is a slow killer and promotes existing rather than living. We can't always be numbah 1 and it's ok if we're not numbah 1 and we don't have to make up for not being numbah 1 either.
Now that I've figured this out, I have to decide how high to set the bar for myself. Most of all, I have to give myself permission to "fail"----it's ok if it takes longer to learn something. It's ok if it's unlikely that I'll be able to play complicated fugues on the harp. And it's ok if I don't lose 2 pounds this week.
So I relinquish the numbah 1 spot and someone else can worry about taking and maintaining that lofty place. It's all in my head anyway. There is no such spot. Say it again...there is NO such spot.
I may even fail at attempting something I'm not good at.... but I'll fail with great gusto.
That's when it hit me.
That's the reason why I get paralyzed when I attempt to do ANYTHING.
Filipino culture can sometimes be comical. One will often hear parents brag about their kindergarteners who "graduated" from their class as "first honor". Or graduating from elementary school as valedictorians.
Often, my relatives or family acquaintances would ask me,
"What number are you in class?"
Number? No, it's not a student number that they're interested in. What they mean to ask is:
"What is your class ranking?"
If you are a true well-bred Filipino child who did everything right, you should be able to say:
"Ma'am, I am number 1 in class!"
If you don't and can't, you are a loser. It's this all or nothing game that, unbeknownst to me, is a slow killer and promotes existing rather than living. We can't always be numbah 1 and it's ok if we're not numbah 1 and we don't have to make up for not being numbah 1 either.
Now that I've figured this out, I have to decide how high to set the bar for myself. Most of all, I have to give myself permission to "fail"----it's ok if it takes longer to learn something. It's ok if it's unlikely that I'll be able to play complicated fugues on the harp. And it's ok if I don't lose 2 pounds this week.
So I relinquish the numbah 1 spot and someone else can worry about taking and maintaining that lofty place. It's all in my head anyway. There is no such spot. Say it again...there is NO such spot.
I may even fail at attempting something I'm not good at.... but I'll fail with great gusto.
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