

#Sad gifted kid burnout free
I don’t necessarily resent my past because it allowed me to discover my passion for writing, but now I know that experiencing true growth as a creative in the craft of my choice couldn’t have happened if I didn’t break free from this restrictive and one-dimensional label. As I leafed through its pages, I couldn’t help but laugh at how I had allowed this test to hold so much weight in my life, like my worth as a human being could be appraised in a 20-page report. In the process of putting this essay together, I inevitably came across a copy of the results and diagnosis from when I was 5 years old. “I’m not the best - I probably never was and never will be - and that’s OK.” I’m not the best - I probably never was and never will be - and that’s OK. But looking back, this process is what taught me to become receptive to feedback. There was always so much to revise and remove at the start, which was admittedly disheartening for someone who just wanted to get published. Sending my lifeblood out to editors far superior in terms of experience and eloquence meant I agreed to have my pieces scrutinized and corrected as necessary. Surrounded by the titles of some of the articles I’ve published. Seeing fellow former overachievers ditching hobbies they don’t immediately excel in or biting off more than they can chew was supposed to comfort me instead, it made me realize that I was living my worst nightmare - I was average. This self-sabotage associated with gifted child burnout is actually a popular phenomenon that has inspired numerous sociological studies and even TikTok videos. So when I failed, I sank into a period of stagnation and disillusionment, refusing to write anything outside of academic requirements. The crippling pressure to prove my worthiness was difficult to navigate because I never had to compete against anybody. Over time, I struggled to contribute to class discussions and produced subpar papers, which reflected in my mediocre first semester grade point average.

I remember finishing a midterm exam for my Filipino literature class and expecting to get the highest score after penning a thoughtful essay likening the fable we just read to President Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs, only to find out that every single classmate I spoke with wrote the same thing.

Everything I wanted to say, or write, or do had already been executed better.
#Sad gifted kid burnout full
That was until I slowly realized that it was impossible for me to come up with a single original thought in a class full of brilliant minds. “I grew up surrounded by people telling me that I was the best, so I believed it too.” I grew up surrounded by people telling me that I was the best, so I believed it too. In fact, as a kid, I would crumple the page I was writing on if I did so much as misspell a word or botch my own penmanship. I was used to nailing everything on the first try that to me, mistakes were unnatural and indicative of incompetence. Made to believe that I was a genius for most of my life, I do not take failures like this well. The first essay I submitted for English class was deemed “underdeveloped” and “lacking in focus” and had a big fat C on the top right corner.
