YouTube Gave Me an Award and I Hated It
Two reasons you might be having trouble feeling proud of past achievements
It came in the mail today. My husband ran up the stairs with the package and held it out to me. ‘I should go back to my meeting, but I want to see it!’ he said enthusiastically.
I tentatively dragged a knife along the tape on the sides of the box.
My friends had convinced me to finally arrange this. “But I’ve been eligible for this thing for years,” I’d complained. “I’ve just never bothered to ask for it.” “That’s exactly why!” they’d cried out.
A smooth, silver sheet of metal slid out of the cardboard. ‘Stella the Siren,’ it said. My Silver Play Button from YouTube, marking 100,000 subscribers.
I regarded it with a kind of disinterested revulsion. Then I looked up at my husband, who was beaming at me with pride.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with this now?” I said.
YouTube gave me an award and I don’t care. What’s wrong with me?
We are designed to regard our current situation with a hint of dissatisfaction. Evolutionarily, it makes sense: if we never feel truly complete and satisfied with what we’ve accomplished, we’ll always reach higher and achieve more. And those that achieve more, make for attractive mates.
Makes sense, right? But it didn’t feel like a satisfactory explanation
At first, I thought it must be because I don’t feel like I’ve earned it. Becoming a YouTube star sort of happened to me accidentally — at least, that’s how it feels now.
When I honestly think about it, I did put a lot of work, time and effort into it, even if it was fun. And although I sometimes feel like I don’t actually know what I’m doing, it’s undeniable that I must have gotten something right. You don’t get to 90 million views on pure luck.
So why does it feel so empty?
Has it just been so far from my mind, what with me focusing on singing/working/writing and the impossibility of going to a pool to shoot new material, that it’s slipped off my radar?
Or — and this was a much scarier thought — am I incapable of being proud of past achievements?
Doctor Lance Dodes talks about the ‘Unhappy Achiever’ in Psychology Today. He describes a group of people that suffer from intense feelings of sadness and emptiness, days or even moments after a major accomplishment.
These people have (often inadvertently) been taught by their parents that it’s their achievements that make them worthy of love. Because their sense of satisfaction is entirely externalised, every win feels ultimately empty. They almost immediately feel compelled to aim even higher.
I read this and thought… That doesn’t apply to me. It must be something else.
My parents have always loved me for who I am. Yes, I have been negatively influenced by other things in the world, but deep down I know my worth is not defined by my achievements.
I’m not an unhappy achiever. Maybe you are, in which case I feel for you. But if you’re like me, there might be another reason you’re feeling this way.
When I started at university, I thought I would be incredibly proud if I got a master’s degree. But as I slowly got closer, it seemed less and less impressive.
Similarly, before I was accepted into the conservatory, it seemed inconceivable to me that I could ever do something so fantastic as getting a degree there. But I’m about to start my third year and not only am I doing it — I’m surrounded by people who are also doing it. It suddenly doesn’t feel so special anymore.
Imagine a mountain climber who is about to reach the peak of a mountain and goes: ‘But… this isn’t impressive at all. It’s just three lousy little steps.’
We forget where we have come from. We forget to look behind us and see the distance we’ve already crossed. We forget to be grateful to our former selves — for all the times we stuck with it, when it was difficult, but especially when it was easy.
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
And then… like a million more steps.”
This is really funny, but it’s actually kind of profound. It’s as if we think that in order to be truly fulfilled, something needs to feel like a Heroic Effort, when in reality it’s the thousands of tiny steps (some of which we took because we had no choice) that got us to where we are.
If you study for every test because there is a professor forcing you, that doesn’t mean you’re not actually passing the tests. It means you set yourself up in a way that didn’t allow you to slack off.
Just because I have a natural aptitude for languages, that doesn’t mean that A for French at the conservatory is meaningless.
And just because I enjoyed making mermaid videos and it never really felt like work, that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be proud of reaching a milestone.
I’m not an unhappy achiever. I’m an ungrateful one.
I think I’ll maybe just hang that silver play button somewhere and practise gratefulness. Not gratefulness for all the effort and blood/sweat/tears it took, but gratefulness for the fact that sometimes, things appear to have come easy — and that’s okay.
About the author
Here so you can learn from my mistakes: a socially anxious mermaid/singer/writer/recovering marketer. Get your dose of heartfelt stories and uppity advice.
