The Ungifted Child to Overcompensating Adult Pipeline

A Homage to The Recipients of Participation Awards

The Gifted Child to Burned Out Adult trajectory is a popular phenomenon and I am very sympathetic to those who’ve experienced it, however, I can’t say it’s something I ever related to.

I was an unremarkable child and painfully aware of it. I went to a very competitive, high achieving school which made me feel like an abject failure. I was great at subjects that involved writing, but average in the rest. I wasn’t sporty, gifted in art, or interested in music - so I felt lacking for redeeming qualities.

I was surrounded by kids playing sports at county level, achieving Grade 8 in various instruments, making phenomenal art, and never getting less than an A. By contrast, I wasn’t intelligent, talented, or pretty enough for people to overlook the former. To add insult to injury, I had buck teeth, a recessed jaw and a terrible fringe.

Unlike the Gifted Child, I’m not naturally good at anything.

I ended up achieving good A Levels and going to a top 10 university for my degree, but I put in an eye watering amount of work to get there. Once I got to university, I had terrible imposter syndrome, possibly not helped by the fact that my brother regularly told me I “fluked” my way in as my grades significantly jumped up in my final year.

I was quiet in seminars, skipped far too many lectures, and didn’t push myself as much as I could have. It might have been simple laziness and love for partying, but it was underpinned by fear of putting in a herculean effort and have it not pay off. I did alright in the end, but I had a lot more to give.

I’m now training for a marathon and while I’m able to run halves (I’m afraid this will come up a lot over the next six months) but only after months of slogging through runs where I struggled to make it to 1 kilometre without needing to stop. I wasn’t like my leggy friends who effortlessly zipped up and down the sports pitch without breaking a sweat.

While I’m a quarter life crisis cliché, part of why I signed up for this was to force myself to consistently put time, effort and energy into myself. To prove to myself I can change the narrative any time I want.

My lack of confidence made me shy and I was bullied in primary school, although made a wonderful group of friends in secondary school I’m still close to. I was socially inept and some of the stuff I came out with to sound clever or funny still makes me wince to this day. I’d shut down in big group settings, wary of embarrassing myself but also conscious of appearing rude or uninterested. This is where a complicated relationship with alcohol kicked in throughout my university years.

I’ve been told I come across as confident and extroverted, the result of studying people I found charismatic and funny and emulating them. The way they carry themselves, the jokes they make, their expressions - how squinting your eyes and smiling with teeth makes you look friendly and genuine rather than the haughty, closed mouth smile I used to do because I didn’t like my teeth.

I learned the intricacies of being sweet without being a sycophant, self-deprecating without sounding insecure, witty without being obnoxious. At this point, I don’t know if my personality is truly my own, or just a mosaic of everyone I’ve liked.

I’ve only learned very recently that my lack of confidence and validation as a child has seeped into many parts of adulthood, although it may look glaringly obvious. The way my life is an never-ending pursuit of self improvement. I used to have a list of procedures I wanted, ranging from from teeth whitening to thigh liposuction in my notes app.

I chose a career path I ended up hating because it was well respected. Optimistically, I thought thick people with no people skills don’t end up in finance. Turns out, some of them do because I’ve had to work with them.

Part of why I’m terrible at being on my own is if I’m always booked up seeing friends and in a romantic relationship, nobody can suggest I’m not lovable or enjoyable to be around.

I’ve been in three back to back long term relationships since I was 19, all of which I knew were doomed to end long before they did. But I needed them as proof that someone found me attractive and loved me and I couldn’t bear how vulnerable being single felt until that person made me feel even worse.

The recurring theme is a relentless preoccupation with how my life looks to others, the need to prove I’m no longer that mediocre, underachieving person they expected me to be. Perfect career, perfect body, exciting life, lots of friends, a romantic partner. I needed all of these things to feel invincible.

I’m not sure who exactly I’m trying to tell “Ha! Look at me now!” Because I don’t think anyone cares. The boys who were nasty to me as children probably don’t even remember my name or what they said to me.

I’ve always enjoyed the saying “you wouldn’t care what people thought of you if you realised how seldom they did” the majority of people are too wrapped up in their own lives to monitor your progress.

The most prolific and critical voyeur of my life is myself. It’s all unbearably cliched. Nobody has been more unkind to that awkward little girl just trying to find her feet than me.

One of the ways I’m trying to unravel this is by going back to something she loved and was good at. I adored writing and would type away stories on the family computer after work. It was something I dropped once I became more focused on doing well at school and getting into a good university and I couldn’t let myself be vulnerable enough to write anything meaningful.

I’m moving back to writing as a means of catharsis and self expression, this time I am accepting producing mediocre work, pouring my heart out into essays that get no views. I’m not chasing perfection or maximum return on investment, I’m doing this for my own enjoyment, with the hope that some of can resonate for other people.

I wish this had a more satisfying conclusion for the adults who are scrambling for ways to demonstrate success after being overlooked and underestimated in their formative years.

If nothing else, I hope this makes you feel seen.