The Unconventional Yardstick

I am about a month and 2 days away from turning 25.

At 24 years, 10 months, and 29 days old, I am not the following: graduated, married, at my ideal weight, or working a high paying corporate job that is what deems you successful in the circle of parents of millennials.

This is possibly why people associated to my mother feel that it is okay to make comments about how “worn out” I look, and how much weight I’ve gained. It is why relatives think it is okay to give me stern opinions on not finishing my degree for the second time, and concluding with an equally stern “but it’s your life, you do what you want lah.” It is also why my own mother thinks it’s okay to put me down, making fun of my financial situation because I just got through my probation month (with probation pay) and make it a point to rub any misfortune that might befall me in my face. This is why she thinks it is okay to put in snide comments in the presence of my friends, other aunties, and her co-workers. 

Because when you measure me against the conventional yardstick, it doesn’t take much to tell you that I fall short. Other people my age have honours degrees, are pursuing their PhDs, work in fancy high-rise offices that have RM4 per hour parking, or have husbands, and babies that are walking and talking and will at some point or rather refer to me as “Aunty Sheril”. 

I am none of the above, we’ve established that. And I am reminded every day.

Here is what I am though.

I am a project manager, that goes to work every day, happy to be a part of a team that is building something new and unconventional, and while it is a lot of work, and is at times absolutely exhausting, every day I am at my job, I never question what I am doing here or why I have to work. I love it. Every moment of painstaking scheduling, re-scheduling, shooting, editing, planning, brainstorming, budgeting, down to the interaction with humans – I love it. I love the people I work with because there isn’t any backbiting or office politics, and we’re constantly supporting each other and growing together. I don’t hate my Mondays, I don’t hate my long hours, and my efforts aren’t just for a paycheque. Speaking of paycheque, this isn’t something that I feel I even need to discuss, so I will just say this – every month I can pay for my bills, contribute to my unit trust and still have money to buy myself a nice dinner, if I wanted. I probably won’t be putting down a deposit for a swanky car anytime soon, but I can live with myself. I can live. 

At 24 years, 10 months, and 29 days old, I was offered this job based on the work that I have done before, based on my capabilities, and not on a piece of paper. True, there’s a long way to go before I’m established, but at this point, I have to say that it is still something. I’m humbled every day and grateful, and I don’t regret a moment away from university, where I was pushing myself to do something I absolutely couldn’t thrive in, because it wasn’t my environment to grow. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I did. Twice. And all it did was drag me down mentally making me feel horrendous each day, despising my days and wondering why I was in lectures when I could have been doing something else. Something more. Some people are made for academia. I am not one of them. And it is so easy for people to say “yeah, but you should just suck it up and do it.” I tried. I really did. But how far do you push before you acknowledge it isn’t a right fit? And what are you really pushing for? Validation, from who? 

It took a lot for me to decide that I didn’t want to do it. That I didn’t need it. That if and when I get a degree, it would be on my terms in a field of study I was passionate about, to improve my craft or my skills. Not because I needed it to validate myself in the eyes of corporations or society or the outer circles of my family.

But that isn’t good enough, because at the end of the day the only achievements that matter are the ones that you can hang up on the wall, not the victories you achieve every day. I learned to accept the uncomfortable sideway glances I get when I tell people I didn’t finish, the awkward pause and that sinking look of sympathy, as if this means I will head nowhere in life.

Well guess what? 

Slowly but surely, I am forging a path of my own that brings me nothing but absolute joy every single day, and trust me when I tell you not everyone can tell you this. Not everyone can say that they go to work enjoying what they do, and they don’t dread Monday mornings and late nights at the office. Not everyone. Possibly just a handful. A handful that includes me. I refuse to kill my inner fire to conform and mould myself into “just another millennial”. Yes, the road is long and bumpy and incredibly unfamiliar, but through trial and error and with great perseverance, trust me when I say that I will make it. Because that’s what Hakka women do. We make it. I refuse to apologize any longer for not fulfilling dreams that were not my own and not living up to expectations that I didn’t even realize were set. 

At 24 years, 10 months, and 29 days old,

I play badminton & go mountain biking once a week and drink copious amounts of green tea. I pour my heart into the people & the causes I believe in, and I dedicate my every effort into any task I am given because I am committed to the work I am doing. I maintain my undercut on both sides of my head and contemplate different colours for my hair, and will validate people who deserve validation and invalidate people who try to bring these other people down. I keep a close circle of people around me and repel the people who try to break them. I pretend on Wednesday nights to know how to dance & sing a little too loud at the bar to the tunes that are all too familiar. I laugh, I grit my teeth against all the naysayers and adversity, and I find small joys every day in things and in people that are altogether just magical. 

I might not measure up to your conventional yardstick, but trust that on the scale of happiness and life fulfilment, I will supersede it.