Being self-centered and self-conscious at the same time

For the final for my econ/government class, we had a final project. I don’t remember the exact details of the assignment and what we were supposed to present. Somehow I had the great idea to create a video about myself. Somehow I had an incredible desire to tell the entire class about myself.

And also, the teacher had given us the option to ask a friend to see our final project be presented. So I chose Rebecca.

Except all I can remember when I showed the video was how suddenly embarrassed I was.

In high school, I was incredibly socially anxious. I didn’t want to tell people who I was. Instead, I wanted to bury myself into the background and not be noticed. So that always led to this paradoxical desire—I desperately wanted to be heard, but not seen.

So like many brilliant ideas in my life, I had imagined the perfect ideal scenario. I would create an artistic video that summarized everything that I felt, saw, and heard. Everything that was about me. Now the world would understand! Now everyone would grasp at what’s important about me! Now they would get it! But unfortunately during the process, I didn’t think deeply about what it meant to actually present the material.

So on the day of the final project, I played the video that I had carefully created. As I played it, I suddenly was so embarrassed and terrified. I covered my face. My teacher did notice and attempted to yank me out my embarrassment. Embarrassed again, I forced myself to watch…my masterpiece.

And it was fine. I am pretty sure my high school classmates don’t remember it, especially now it’s more than 15 years ago.

But this past Monday, I thought—what a great idea to present my “About Me” at my new job. I would show my quirkyness, my fun, and my style. But as usual, this time with years of maturity and confidence, I blasted through it with no fear. But then I realized—the terror. I have just exposed myself with the silliness of how I viewed life (privately) and how I wanted life to be.

But then afterwards? Not much, except for the colleagues who already was very interested in my background. So I seeped back into silence and the neverending skulking.

What is it like to be junior?

I remember moments early in my career of frustration, disenchantment, and feigned confidence.

Why can’t things work the way they should be working? I want to cry

Looking back, I can only smell how green that appears. How so lacking of the great context and the drive for something greater.

I remember once 10 years ago, I had suggested in a startup with no titles that I have the word principal in front of my title. My manager disagreed. “Principal doesn’t seem right,” he murmured.

I was embarrassed, so I said nothing.

Then again about two years later, I asked why I didn’t have the “senior ux designer” title. “Why do you believe that you deserve that title?” I was asked.

And again, I didn’t say anything, embarrassed, perhaps letting the self-doubt surface.

But now I have that title. The principal one. I achieved the senior title about 5 years ago, just by tackling it on. And now lead or principal just by being here. I am not as frustrated as before. Rather, I understand why. But in all situations, I am only thinking of opportunity for myself.

When I see the displeasure in others, I feel the greenness and I wonder how long it will take until they see what I see.