I almost failed Organic Chemistry (read I almost got a B+) and now I am a doctor

From an early age, I was heavily praised for being bright and precocious. I was generally obedient and craved deeply my parents love and affection, which perhaps too often went hand-in-hand with a good report card. I recognize they were doing their best, as we all are, just trying to do the right thing day in and day out while putting a roof over our heads and food on the table. 

I strove for perfection, vigorously treading water to please my parents and to maintain an aura of success and competence. I learned very little about failure until I reached college and this article ( Campus Suicide and the Pressure of Perfection http://nyti.ms/1VIuROq) in the NY Times struck a cord with me today. 

Societal and academic pressure has been around for ages and I think the majority of what is said here is already well know. Parental pressure can be debilitating, and one billion Asian teens can tell you that story over and over. The Tiger Helicopter mom is our bread and butter. I was pressured into memorizing my multiplication tables in the dark with three grains of rice while all other children had a proper childhood with cable television and on-brand fruit roll ups and frolicked in the woods carrying Barbie dolls. Or so I thought.

I had a somewhat delusional vision of everyone else's all-American, stress-free homes. Everyone else's life was my fantasy. I dreamed up that faux-reality even without the aid of a perfect Insta-filtered world of swans and bikinis floating in aquatic backyards. I mean, have you seen some of these adolescent Insta accounts?! hashtags with #bae? Goddammit everything is #on fleek. I barely know if the vocab is even in the English language. Merriam Webster be damned! I really do enjoy Facebook and Instagram. I can catch up on old friends and their babies, sneakily investigate a new friend's husband's name that I forgot and I am a member of some Mom groups that tell me what day to recycle my milk cartons. But I feel Insta-pressure from other postpartum moms who look like Greek goddesses in their bikinis after 4 kids, and I am a grown up! How on earth are my kids supposed to grow up in this era of Photoshopped-life and not feel that need to keep up? 

I guess the answer lies with me and my husband. We can be human reminders that perhaps a picture is worth a thousand words, but those words may just be a good work of fiction. I'll start the trend. Lets post real life. The good and the bad. No filter, failures welcome.

Xo,

m 

Hoodies, no makeup, no filter.