The journey of an insecure over-achiever

You might have heard of the Jonah Complex; the fear of «undeserved» success and happiness, and perhaps you are familiar with Imposter Syndrome; the fear of being exposed as a “fraud” even when the evidence tells you otherwise.

All my life I was told that I was fortunate, privileged, smart and cute. I shouldn’t ask for more, right? Wrong. I just put the bar so high I could never reach it. So any praise I got as an hard-working adult was dismissed as pure luck, genetic fortune, or that I had fooled someone into thinking I had skills. To compensate for this insecurity I became an over-achiever. And I’m here to tell you the secrets of what I’ve learned.

Who Am I?

Let’s start from the beginning. Yes, I had over-protective parents with high expectations of a certain appropriate behavior. My mom, the silent housewife, had total control of the household. She was a bit restrained and never showed emotions publicly (I don’t have much in common with my mom, but I didn’t realize that until much later). My dad, the professional, was the man who brought Post-It sticky notes to Norway in the early 80s. He was often away on business trips, and I both admired and was angry at him for not being there more. But he made ut for it in holidays.

Part of the boys´ club but always with a sense of falling behind. Especially on ski trips.

When I was born they already had two active boys at 6 and 8, and the perfect family of five was now complete. However, it wasn’t easy being myself as a little sister to two older brothers and only male cousins.

Being the only green-eyed in the family I actually believed for some time that I was adopted. I felt so different from the rest of my family, without understanding why.

I wanted to belong, to be asked for my opinion, understood and respected, encouraged to fight for my own ideas and thoughts. Instead I got constant reminders that someone else were taking all the decisions. So I learned to control my emotions and to play by their rules. The result? A girl who never learned to feel, to listen to herself, but an expert of adapting to others.

What happened in my youth was; I started seeking out new challenges and unstability that I could manage and control, to prove myself still worthy of attention — while at the same time playing the role as a responsible little sister. My energy and “rebellious” side only came out in situations outside of the family, in wild parties with friends, as a small hidden tattoo, and by doing my studies abroad. It felt outrageous but wasn’t.

People-pleasing As A Service

In adulthood the story remained the same. My studies included creative topics such as graphic design, media production and copywriting, but I had terribly low self-esteem about it. Perhaps I felt a bit ashamed of using my intellect on something so “unimportant”, or maybe I just feared being judged for personal work. Anyway, I concluded I was better equipped for project management.

Structure, accountability and facilitation for others had become so natural to me I made a career of it.

In fact, I hated the fixed boundaries in project management. During the next 10 years I tried to break out of the project manager role, expanding it, taking on new responsibilities, new projects and increasingly more complex challenges. From producing simple leaflets and flyers, CDs and books I started managing large development teams with millions in budget for some of the biggest brands in Norway, while networking socially with professional superstars in the digital industry. I became a fast-learning machine. It was a roller coaster. Do you see where this is going?

The Project Manager excelled in PAAS (People-pleasing As A Service).

I didn’t even notice that I slowly lost contact with friends and family, and I ignored signals like stomach pain and bad sleep for months. Above all, none of the men I dated could possibly meet my high standards.

One day, after presenting my team’s results for the advertising agency, their managing director approached me. He put his hand on my shoulder, and said worried “Trine, are you OK? The number of profitable projects you and your team have delivered the last year is remarkable. 97% billability rate in total, how is that even possible?”

And no. It suddenly hit me. I was not OK. I was exhausted. Tired. Empty. Turns out there’s a line for how much a body can take, in the name of recognition and approval. I had been pushing myself too far, for too long. And for what? To impress my boss? My team? My Dad and my brothers? To prove to myself that I was capable?

The insecure little sister, who never felt she could reach the grown-ups’ table, no matter how hard she tried, had at least reached something — her limits.

The next morning I suddenly started to cry in the shower. It didn’t stop. I cried while getting dressed for work. I cried while eating breakfast. And I cried while calling one of my team mates, telling her that I had a really, really lousy day. She made me go see a doctor and the doctor convinced me. I had to take a sick leave — in the middle of a very critical phase in my project. Because the only way I could heal was to give it all up. And build my self up again from the ground. It was time to look deep into myself, find my strengths and inner passions, be proud of my skills and my weirdness and shortcomings, and learn how to live without the consent of everyone around me.

What I’ve learned

It was not until I turned 40, and after a second round of cognitive therapy, that I realized this: Why spend so much energy chasing for recognition that I already had in my pockets? I was already successful; my leadership career, salary and personal life were solid proofs! OK, I didn’t get to implement everything I wanted at work. And I didn’t have the stability in life that my family values so much. I’ve changed homes, jobs and romantic relationships more often than I can count. So what? It only means that I’m flexible, diverse and sensitive to toxic environments. I’m not going to adjust myself to the circumstances anymore. I have power over them. And I take action.

So here’s what I´ve learned:

1. Dare to speak out! Loneliness is the result of an inability to communicate how you really feel, and people-pleasing gets in the way of you figuring out what you want. Don’t exaggerate your negative impact on others, you are not responsible for everyone’s happiness. Compassion does not require self-sacrifice.
2. Show vulnerability! Stop with the constant self-monitoring and chase for perfection. You can’t be seen if you don’t make your true self visible, with «flaws» and everything. Dare to fail. Superwoman/Superman does not exist.
3. Accept praise! Don’t put words in the mouth of imaginary critics. Ask for feedback — you’ll probably receive a compliment you didn’t expect. Be proud of what you have become. The universe has much to give. Own it.
4. Consider movement as your goal! Ignorance is the same thing as standing still, so embrace your restless urge to keep moving. But, be present here and now, instead of impatiently chasing a future state.

What I’m still working on

I’m still on a journey. Much of my anxiety is built on that little girl’s need for dignity, and the big girl’s fear of not having control. I’m still learning to be proud of who I am, instead of downplaying my strengths as pure good fortune. Accepting my insecurities and shortcomings. We all have them.

Pretty in pink. I think I looked pretty fierce here.

The insecure over-achiever still prefer things that are manageable, but being stuck there is not enough for me anymore. I need to accept that I can’t be in control of everything and let my own messiness shine through as well.

I want to push myself in romantic relationships, and communicate to the world how I really feel inside. I need to reveal my vulnerability, not mask it, which will give me support and a sense of belonging in return.

It’s the cracks that make people interesting anyway.

Life is always interrupted, and we need to adjust. But be true to yourself on your journey. You are not alone.