Monday, May 20, 2013

The Imperfectionist!



I am my father's daughter. I inherited his looks, his rather sharp analytical skills, his quick decisive nature, his deadly seriousness and dedication to finish the job he has undertaken, his appeal for a wide variety of interests, his disposition of being the critic. His mantra was: "If something was worth being done, it is worth being done well". He means well, gives credit where credit is due but is really hard to impress. As a child I saw him as the epitome of a learned man. To me, he defined success. I learned that in order to be successful, I needed to be his photocopy. 

All of the above mentioned qualities have served me well. I was an above average student, took part in extra-curricular activities, was the school president, a university debater, and topped my college during my BA and MA. I was the first of my classmates to get a job, and have two other job offers on hand. They, as parents, encouraged me to do all this and more. While, outwardly I seemed to be doing well enough and exuberated confidence, inwardly I had a melancholic feeling of inadequacy. I was unhappy, and the underlying feeling all along was that my work was not good enough, I was not good enough and that I needed to work really hard to prove myself. Not being able to achieve perfection in everything I was doing was making me unhappy. This was because I never realized that I was not my dad. He likes to do few things but do them well, I am more inclined to do a lot of things but do them just well enough. I was not built for perfectionism; I am a jack of all trades. The fact that I was master of none was what was making me sad. I was sad without realizing that the world has a place for Jacks.

Laughing, giggling and being the loud extrovert that I am was seen as being flirtatious and affected. Not to mention, my having lots of friends was seen as a waste of my time and energy. My lack of interest in learning languages (my parents are both English teachers) was evidently something to be ashamed of. I did not have any knowledge of various personality types and I saw myself exactly as was described to me. While they did not stop me from doing anything that I wanted, they were (still are!) not amused by my choosing to have the ton of friends that I did, and were more than disappointed by my not taking up language more seriously. I was (still am) acutely aware of all my shortcomings as was often pointed out. I know that they mean well. I know that they want me to be the best I can be. 

Then, I met my husband and what a change of perspective that was! He was attracted to everything that was pointed out as being negative in me. He loved my laughing, giggling, loud self. If anything he was more lively and energetic than I was! I, unconsciously, copy mannerisms of whomever I am with for any amount of time, which was being pointed out to me as being ‘affected’.  This, I recently learnt, is a non-verbal form of communication which helps people gel well and be more accepted in new/constantly changing environments (I knew God had something in mind to ease my discomfort while sending me off to all these scary new worlds!).  I embarrassed them by what they thought was a ‘put-on’ accent, which I had a hard time turning off. My husband on the other hand found it amusing that I picked up mannerisms so quickly.  He accepted me COMPLETELY. All parts of me, the good, the bad and the ugly.

I realized that my not having perfect language skills and all the other shortcomings need not stop me from being happy. As he put it, every imperfection put together makes the perfect you. He made me realize that none of us is ever going to learn everything; we will always be good at some things, not so good at others and completely suck at a lot many more things. We learn what we need to lead our lives. If someday you do realize that your less than perfect language is holding your back, you will learn it. I would question, ‘how come my sisters could learn language so much better than me’. My dad would answer: because they spent a lot more time reading newspapers and books. My husband answered: because you were busy learning other skills such as networking and making friends which later served you well. It did. No amount of language proficiency could have gotten me into the United Nations, what I needed was the ability to make friends. At every stage in life, we all learn what we want and need to learn. 

He parents differently. He believes that the world is critical enough, what kids need from their parents is unconditional love and acceptance. It is not - I love you if you become the best you can be, it is I love you period. He does not believe that as parents it is our job to point out our kid's shortcoming so that they can correct them before the harsh world points it out more rudely. He believes that we will never be able to teach them everything that they ever need to learn and that there will always be the bad harsh world ready to point it out. He believes the best we can do is let them know that they will be ok even if they ‘suck’ at a few things. Our job as parents is to help them focus on what they are good at, so that if and when they do face setbacks they have the conviction that they are in no way inadequate to lead a happy, healthy, meaningful life. More importantly, he believes shortcomings are part of who they are and that it is our job to accept and love them for whoever they are, whoever God intended them to be.

He doesn't believe in criticism. Criticism, he says, creates rebels. He has never read a self-help book in his life, but he lives by the first principle that Dale Carnegie offered to his audience “Don’t criticize, condemn, or complain.” His guiding principle: ‘encourage’. Year after year, I have seen him work with difficult teams and manage to turn them around without ever criticizing any of them. He doesn’t fret and fume for being given a bad team, he doesn’t complain if they lose a bid. He’ll smile and say: “You win some, you lose some. The other team must have put in a better bid”. He might encourage people to analyse the situation – but I can bet on my life that his words would be, “what do you think we could have done better, rather than what do you think went wrong”.  

Needless to say, I have easily accomplished a lot more after having met him and all of it without that underlying feeling of inadequacy. I have attempted and achieved things I never even dared dream of – be it learning swimming past 30, or working for United Nations, getting into Cambridge University or finally having the confidence to be my own person. He has always told me – focus on what you have to offer, the rest will come as and when you need it.



Wednesday, March 20, 2013

The Romantic notions of being nice!


Garden variety self-help about staying positive and resisting negativity disturbs me. It is not just these two articles, it is everywhere. People, it seems, have started believing that ‘being nice’ = kindness. I cannot begin to imagine the consequences of this romantic notion, of raising a kid in Stepford! Thankfully, the world is nothing like Stepford.

One of my friends recently commented, “I hate the perfect Barbies! They are affected, and quite frankly extremely irritating!” While I see no reason why one should not be proper and civil with people in general, I could fully resonate with the view.

Bill Gillham, talking about Research Interviewing, says: "Being 'confrontational' has come to be seen as a bad thing in social contexts. For those who seek to smooth things down, to make things 'work' - does it ever really work that way?" He clarifies this a bit further, being 'confrontational' does not mean that one has to be routinely and overtly aggressive leading to conflicts, but tamely subordinating our own views for the sake of 'peace' is no way to go either.  If all played nice, no one would challenge anyone. Instead of pushing the boundaries of knowledge further, we would all be pushing issues under the carpet which would inevitably blow up in our faces. I have invariably seen that the nice ones end up hurting their loved ones more than those who learn to deal with conflict head-on. 

I am more convinced of the yin and the yang. There is good and bad in life; and the strength of character lies in dealing effectively with both. We cannot boycott parts of life. We should not be scared of conflict or criticism; instead we have to look at how it as an essential ingredient for growth. Imagine if we were to distance ourselves from everybody who ever criticised us; we would be left with false admirers and no scope for growth. What a sad state to be in! As a parent, I can only hope that I am able to instil in my child a sense of realism – the capacity to accept both good and bad without ever losing himself. That he stays grounded while seeking to grow!

Friday, February 15, 2013

Being a student-parent!

Ask any student-parent in the university and they will tell you, it is a hard job!

I have finally managed to submit my seventh term assessment (still anxiously waiting for the viva), but there is no time to rest or take a break, because I have to finish my literature review, start writing new chapters if I am to keep up with my schedule of finishing up the first draft by September. A normal day in life begins early, getting ready, getting my son ready for nursery (I am tired by the time I finish his brushing, breakfast and shower), and dropping him off before I head out to the department. After a full day of studying, attending courses, library visits and some writing, you rush back to pick them up in time. This is actually my favourite time of the day when I get to hear all about his day at the nursery and just getting the hug and settling in to a cuddle till he finishes the milk and biscuits. Sometimes his friend from nursery comes over – and they play for about half an hour. Some days they play nicely, other days, when they are both especially tired, it is rather difficult. My son and I then get ready to cook dinner. I sometimes wonder if I am making my life especially difficult by cooking fresh food every night, but he loves cooking with me so it is nice.

By the time my husband gets home, the kid has been fed, read stories to, and is ready to drop off any time now. My husband works in London so the daily commute means that he is home pretty late. Dinner is two exhausted people catching up on each other’s day and just some time alone for ourselves. While my DH cleans up and does the dishes, I settle into the never ending reading.

Weekends are only slightly easier because my husband is around. But then there is music, swimming and golf lesson to take my son too. There are the weekly chores of laundry and cleaning to be done.

So what do I like about being a student-parent? I like the environment that a being in a university campus provides. I like the fact that my learning curve has never been this high, some of the classes have easily been, in my opinion, as best as it can ever get. I love the library, and I genuinely enjoy working on my PhD.

I love that being so busy means I have no time to dwell on anything negative, there is always something to be done. I also prefer the flexibility that a PhD provides, which can be very handy with a small kid. If he is sick, I can take a week off, and work harder the next week, a luxury which I never enjoyed while working. Also, when you know you only have so much time, you seem to focus better when you work.

What I struggle with: Time. When we first came to Cambridge, we would take our son to the student-parent gatherings on Friday mornings at the University Centre. I was initially overwhelmed being a student-parent and had asked several other student-parents, how it is they managed. One of them answered for everyone, “Look around, nobody is managing. We all struggle, but we also manage to enjoy!” Some days the fatigue of being a student-parent is just completely draining, other days your accomplishments as a student or as a parent make up for all the exhaustion!

The final verdict: I think it is rewarding enough to make us want to go through it!

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Newly weds...for 10 years and counting!

This Friday, on our way back from my 4 year old's music class we stopped to buy Valentine's card for my husband. I was at the counter for a long while because none of the cards seemed good enough (yep! I actually have that good a husband).

There were so many women who came, picked out their cards and went their ways, except an older woman. We had spent the past hour picking and rejecting the same cards. Finally, I turned to my son telling him that maybe I should hand paint the card for daddy. She now looked at me as we were struggling with the stroller, and said: "I know the feeling, I have one of those as well...and I cannot to this day believe that he chose me". I was all smiles and if I were alone I would have invited her for a cup of coffee to hear all about their story. I actually regret not having done that. By the looks of it, she must have been a retired professor, definitely academia (actually not too many points for guessing that, I live in a university town), and I couldn't help but notice, how she seemed an older me.

I told her to look for cards in the newly-wed section, she smiled. I knew, she knew.