Where’s My Gold Star?

All my life, I have never considered myself to be a words-of-affirmation kind of girl.

In fact, most times — I find myself cringing at an overstated compliment or affection. Perhaps this comes from my belief that “words are cheap”, because anyone could make a passing compliment without giving much thought — hell, some people can even say “I love you” without meaning it. This belief made me a little apprehensive of compliments or affection shown through words. At best, too much affirmation made me feel a little uncomfortable — and at worst, it made me wonder if the affirmation-giver needed something from me and thought the best way to get it is through half-assed flattery (wrong. totally wrong.)

Unsurprisingly, when I tried one of the makeshift tests to determine my “Love Language”, Words of Affirmation ranked at the bottom. Because to me, words mean nothing without actions to substantiate it. I don’t like overstated compliments and I couldn’t stand people gushing. I also don’t need over-the-top love declarations like those romcoms heavily advertised. Sometimes the small stuff — like not scrolling through your phone on our day out, remembering small details from a story I told months ago, or buying a cup of coffee just because you knew I just pulled an all-nighter — matters more because it showed me that I was appreciated, well-cared for, and loved.

The truth is, pretty-talkers are abundant, but genuine people are rare. Not many people can substantiate their words with real actions — the belief “words are cheap” gradually imprinted to the core of my being. Until two seconds ago, I thought that was the only reason why words never mattered much to me. It never occurred to me that there is a second reason: I have never really needed those affirmations before, not until now.

Growing up, I have always been a little ambitious (that’s a severe understatement). I was never studious, I think even from a very young age I had an inkling that good grades aren’t everything — never at the expense of friends and fun. But I had decent grades and I was a responsible student (most of the time). Bringing home a good test score always feels like a grand achievement — not only because I was occasionally rewarded with my favorite snack (pempek depan rumah) — but because it just feels great to do something well. This was reflected well on my report cards, and Report Card Day has never been a burden throughout my life.

I also took part in some competitions — which was the primary outlet to appease my competitive streak. This got even more intense as I entered university. I joined many competitions and won some accolades, and I collected them like gold stars. Come to think of it, maybe that was why those affirmations never mattered much — those shiny trophies and certificates spoke enough volumes to boost a sense of self-worth. I didn’t need further advertisement of my accomplishment (because like I said, excessive gushing made me feel uncomfortable) — it just feels nice to know that I did a great job, and yes, honestly those trophies helped me see it.

This was, of course, a totally different landscape from the professional world. We no longer have Report Card Day, and instead, we get Pay Day. It is of course infinitely more financially rewarding than Report Card Day — I can even afford a few portions of those delicious pempek on my own from it. But somehow, it feels less fulfilling, those pempek no longer taste as delicious as I remembered from childhood. We also no longer have a competition that we can legitimately win an award for — the only “competition” is the constant grueling battle to hoist ourselves up the corporate ladder. And just like that, I feel like I lost a sense of self-actualization.

I lost my gold stars.

I once saw a snippet from a movie, in which an employee was having an emotional breakdown in front of her boss, screaming: “But you got the client! And you’ve never even said thank you!” to which the boss (played by Jon Hamm, I believe) replied, “That’s what the money is for!” I laughed and didn’t give it much thought — and in truth, I could see where the “evil boss” was coming from (one of the comments were: “adulting is realizing the evil boss is right all along” — to which I find both true and hilarious). We did get paid to get our job done after all. We didn’t get thanked for doing our job, because it is our responsibility and not a special favor.

However, like many employees — I’ve come to realize that over time, Pay Day seems more like a regularity than an accomplishment. It is no longer sufficient as a sense of self-actualization — to incentivize “doing well” — because we get paid either way (except of course, we get fired for underperformance). I began to see where the emotional employee was coming from, because now the only way for her to get a sense of self-actualization — that incentive for “doing well” and differentiating her from the other employees — was an affirmation from her boss. That’s her new gold star.

I am not proud to admit it, but in some moments of my professional career, occasionally I am that emotional employee (minus the emotional outburst of course — that’s the line I would hopefully never cross). The compulsive desire to do well often times lead to doing more work and putting the extra miles, and I try to let the my actions “talk” before my words. Yet ironically, I’ll feel a bit resentful when that extra effort goes unnoticed — or worse, unappreciated regardless — or the worst: seen lacking regardless. I find myself thinking: “they didn’t even say thank you!” or “what more do they want?”. Within a split second of that thought, I was instantly surprised — because since when do words matter so much to me? I used to be okay when no one gave me credit for my accomplishments, and I took criticisms in a stride. So what is wrong with me?

It occurred to me that I was, in fact, trying to collect gold stars as I did during my school & university years. It was just in a less tangible form. It took a while for me to process that realization, starting from surprise, which faded to pensiveness, to a little bit of regret as the ending note. Because I realized that all my life, I have been benchmarking my self-worth through those “gold stars” I attained — and now even more so, I have been benchmarking my self-worth to what others think or say about me. I deserve a great deal more than that.

I read a book today called “The Happiness Project” written by Gretchen Rubin (in my opinion — a rare self-help book which feels less stuffy and self-righteous, you should get a read if you feel like it), which is the true inspiration of this post. I think she sums it up beautifully:

“I’ve been self-righteously telling myself that I made certain efforts ‘for the team’, which led to bad results because I sulked when no one noticed my efforts. Instead, I started to tell myself — ‘I am doing this for myself, this is what I want’. This sounded selfish, but in fact it was less selfish, because it meant I wasn’t nagging to get a gold star from anyone else.”

This is a piece of her wisdom I think I should put here as a self reminder — and perhaps also a reminder to my fellow ambitious go-getter friends who happens to be reading this post. You should never measure your self-worth to those “gold stars” somebody else gives you. Always be reminded that you have the power to give yourself that gold star.

Cheers to the grind, everyone. Gold stars for all of you who have read until this point :)