today's weather: B A S E L I N E / N O R M A Lanxiety : 0 | agitation : 0
Today's unwanted guests: Drowsiness and numbness due to allergy meds; can be mistaken for depression and listlessness except there isn't any anx/agit.
I recently read an article that said a person with an IQ of 140 is smart enough to be a rocket scientist. No sh*t?
Howard Wolowitz. My favorite fictional aerospace engineer.Image from here.
It's quite disappointing that I'm supposedly "that smart" since I've never accomplished anything absurdly intelligent in my life.
I score above 140 on average, I sometimes shoot way past 150 when I'm elevated. But I have never felt being anything as smart as a rocket scientist. Certainly my kind of intelligence is inclined more toward the spatial, linguistic and perceptual rather than numerical - and though I'm good at the logical, I'm not so quick with the mathematical - but nonetheless I'm supposed to be some kind of "genius:.
But then, when I remember how I fared in back school, or when take a look at what I'm doing now, I wouldn't mistake myself for a Howard Wollowitz, and much less a Sheldon Cooper. To someone else, I probably look more like a soup-for-brains Missy Cooper.
For all the IQ tests I aced in school, and for all the motivation from the guidance counselor of how supposedly smart I was, I never got any medals for academic performance. I was what teachers called an underachiever. And it wasn't because I was lazy, as my parents and teachers made me believe. It was really frustrating to know that I was supposed to be so smart but still failed at things, and even more so to have everyone repeatedly point it out.
I see now that it was because I was depressed half the time, and half of that half I was busy sneaking in some Zs. To others who didn't really know what was going on in my head, I appeared lazy when what I actually felt was suicidal and tired. An episode of depression isn't just emotional as most people think - it affects the physical and intellectual aspects too, so I wasn't just "feeling sad" or "not in the mood". It meant I would be too fatigued to do anything, and I would need more rest than usual. It also meant my mind would be duller, and even slowed down further by the obsessive-compulsive behavior that accompanied my episodes.
It wasn't uncommon for me to do excellently in exams and recitations, or be the first one - sometimes the only one - to solve an especially difficult problem. But neither was it a rarity to find me sleeping in on the teacher, or getting stymied at simple seatwork due to difficulties in verbal comprehension (i.e., I couldn't understand what I was hearing / reading). Now knowing that I am bipolar, it makes a lot of sense how I could be in the advanced math class one quarter and flunking out the next, and how my grade could go from a shining A- to a C. I now understand how I could be way ahead of everyone else a lot of the time (thinking that the teaching is too slow), while other times lagging behind (being the slow one).
I loathed myself for all the things people labeled me - lazy, "sprinter", ningas cogon, undisciplined, moody. It did not make me want to be a better person; it just made me want to kill myself. Considering suicide a no-no, it was not an option to actually do it so I did the next best thing: sleep through life. Resign from everything. Bail out on everybody.
I loathed myself for being the stupidest smart person, and I often resigned to settle for passing grades because it was just too much work to do better. No matter how hard I tried, I never made it to the honor roll in high school; I decided to give up altogether. I just had to satisfy myself with knowing that I had higher IQ than most of those girls who were in the honors class.
College was a whole different game; I did really well in every subject without even trying half as hard as I did in high school. In college, I was ALWAYS on the Dean's List, even if I cut classes and failed to submit a few requirements. I was that good. Probably it was because I enjoyed what I was doing and felt less pressure (I'm sure it also helped that I didn't have to tune in to chalkdust-sprinkled, wrinkly old maids with runny stockings; it was very refreshing - even energizing - to have young, attractive, intellectual instructors who did not care about left margins and good manners). But one of the things I appreciated the most is loose schedule, which allowed me more time to rest and have fun. It was then that I realized that private-high-school-style education just didn't suit me, but if I had sufficient breathing room I could excel. I know now of course that more breathing room = less stress = less extreme episodes.
I know for sure by now that I was and am absolutely NOT all those things they called me.
I am not a lazy person, as evidenced by the fact that a lot of the things I create with my hands reguire a lot of hard work and dedication. It just happens that I feel fatigued every now and then and need to rest.
I am not a "sprinter" or ningas cogon, as seen in how I have been faithful to finish things I have set out to do. It's just that due to the shifts in episode, there a shifts in my energy and pace. And also, I know how to tell when something is not worth it and must be abandoned - that is a trait of an effective person.
I am not undisciplined. I happen to be very be disciplined with my time and money, even my emotions. When I work, I work hard; but when I play, I play hard.
I am not moody. I have a chemical imbalance, those idiots.
I wonder though if I would have done better if I didn't go to a stuck-up private school, but went to a Montessori-style one that allowed me to go at my own pace - I could have gone real fast when I was elevated, then slow down when I was depressed. And what if my parents found out about my condition when I was still young, and what if I got help for it instead of being written of as lazy. Would I have become more similar to a rocket scientist?
According to that popular milk commercial, a child's achievement is determined by the three-part triangle of IQ, proper nourishment and parental support. Of couse children with chemical imbalances would greatly benefit from a fourth leg called professional help. Geez, I am such an underachiever.
It could seem that I'm just making excuses for myself, but it's not like I can go back to kindergarten and correct everything - though I would really, really love to. I might as well come to terms with my could-have-been-prodigious-but-actually-less-than-extraordinary childhood instead of continuing to punish myself for being such an underachiever for all those (these) years. Understanding all this gives me patience and wisdom for the future. So what if I'm not a rocket scientist though I supposedly have the intellectual capacity to be one? So what if I'm a genius only half the time? I'm pretty good as is, me thinks.
