Why I Hate the Word ‘Potential’ | Paisley Purpose

For this post, I’m using images of clothes I have hand-sewn and transformed into other styles that I have actually worn. I think doing so will effectively illustrate what ‘potential’ means: being cut apart, sewn together and ultimately transformed into something usable. It is a positive, even powerful, word. But I hate it.

Five years out of college and three full-time jobs in, I have repeatedly been told that I have a lot of potential. To become senior editor. To become marketing head. To host, direct videos, spearhead events, oversee campaigns, etc. I can’t say I haven’t lived up to the great potential a lot of people see in me.

Got promoted twice in my first job. In my 11 months in my second full-time job, I spearheaded 3 activation events, wrote, directed, acted and co-edited 3 online advertisements, published more than 200 posts, formulated more than 10 sales, created 2 billboards, stategized a number of marketing initiatives, etc. I have been similarly productive in my current job.

On the side, I have been exploring sustaining a Youtube channel, improving my singing, reviving this blog, working on weekly stories with friends, and getting back to my creative hobbies, one of which gave way to these new clothes. As I’m writing this, I get why I hate the word ‘potential’. It’s not that I haven’t lived up to it; it’s that I have been measured by it, too often in many aspects of my life. I picked that mentality up: I have to do more because I am able to, so I don’t put that potential to waste.

I have lived up to it. And I have been living in the shadow of my great potential. It didn’t make me very happy. Great potential equates to great expectations. I can deliver. But when I don’t deliver the way others see how my potential should allow me to, I immediately fall short. I once had a mix up at work, was reprimanded, and was told that that wasn’t the first of many things I was not able to do spot on.  I don’t mind getting reprimanded especially when it’s fair. What I do mind is a mistake somehow becoming a stain to my otherwise good showing, only because I am not expected to make it, and solely being blamed for it. Because again, that is not something I am expected to make or need help with.

See, when people expect a lot from you, they keep track of your mistakes. And they say how could that have happened when you have so much potential to do it as well as they expect you to.

I hate that about potential. More potential means less room for mistakes. I have experienced that firsthand, so many times, I say it’s a pattern. And I don’t want to stay stuck in that. I have tons of potential to be whatever I want: an international student, a writer, a host, a media producer, even a designer, which I actually did study for.

In my personal life, I’ve had difficulty dating because of my potential: usually it is to become the typical Filipino-Chinese wife, if only, because I am Filipino-Chinese. This is another proof of how people look at potential and see only that. Cultivate and appreciate only that. Because it can be beneficial for them to do so. I have great potential, but I have even greater desires to be loved as I am, accepted as I am, whether or not I meet expectations. I can accept metrics for as long as they are fair. But how I see myself comes before how I measure up to someone else’s standards. Always.

I hate the word ‘potential’ because while people say I have it, they want to be the ones to benefit from and define it. Whenever I make mistakes, I watch how they react and remember. And remind myself, they haven’t seen it all, and probably don’t deserve to. My potential is mine to actualize and not yours to exploit.

It can be tricky to stick to my own guns in times like this. But…as far as I know, my greatest potential is to become the person I am happiest as, even if it means losing other people along the way. Then again, if they only saw my potential, then they haven’t seen anything yet, and I haven’t lost them.

My potential is mine to explore and actualize. I haven’t yet decided what to do with all of it. But one thing’s for sure: letting you use up any of it is not one of them. Enjoy my Before and After DIY project photos for now. ❤

Bonus: This is how the pink dress at the start of the post started as:

And what the pink top with pearls originally was:

Yes. It was a pair of culottes. Ripped at the back. 😉It still lived up to its potential, though not the way anyone expected it to. ❤ I will, too. I always have.

It Began With Fat

Ideas. There are times when I’d come close to convincing myself that I’ll never run out of them. They’re incredibly handy when I need to get creative with promos, captions, and write-ups, but they can also be a huge nuisance when all I want to do is to laze around and silence my head.

And they become especially cruel when they’re not mine and I don’t like them, and they’re inadvertently ingrained to my consciousness. I have a lot of cruel ideas that shaped the way I see myself, and it’s a difficult ongoing fight. Because of them, I struggle to lift myself up and have, in the process, almost given up in doing so.

Ideas can have good intentions but can still come out so wrong. I have always been subject to many people’s scrutiny because of my body type. Before I even had any idea what a body type is, aunts, uncles, and nosy neighbors have already ingrained it in my head that I was fat. Even after losing a lot of weight over the years, their predicament didn’t change; after all, that’s still how I would look when standing beside the delicately built, 100-lb mother and sister. It was almost as if I am predisposed to believe I was fat, and even less of a person, all my life. And since I never lacked reminders, that’s what happened.

Years upon years of being told that I was fat, and hearing how my mom is forever slim and how my sister is pretty, took a huge toll on me, mentally and emotionally. This, I believe, marked the start of the downward spiral of my self-esteem, if I even had any to begin with.I overcompensated and was under constant pressure to prove myself. If I wasn’t pretty, I could be smart. Or talented. Or kind. I was everything I thought people wanted me to be, as I fell into the habit of learning to morph into what was expected of me.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to keep the fat remarks from coming, or the bullies from backstabbing. And so it went, from when I was eleven, until I hit my early twenties, that people will expect, and I will over-deliver, only to learn later on that it will never be enough. 

I was miserable for many, many years; my default mode is stressed. At the back of my head, I hear those remarks about my weight, or what could be comments about my work, and feel the need to always be doing something. Otherwise, I feel guilty for slacking off again. Whenever I attempt to talk about my long-standing issues, I feel that some confidantes may be too busy to listen. And I, myself, would think that maybe I’m just overthinking. Sure, I feel awful deep inside. I developed a hatred for family reunions. During the earliest months of Paisley Purpose, I refused to show my face in any of the entries. For a time, I even decided to discontinue it because I’m not pretty like other bloggers. It felt so bad. But I function oh so well. And I’m fat. I look anything but sick or in need of any help. 

But I knew I do. So I asked for it. Last week, April 27, I had my first counseling session at our university’s center for psychological services. I have layers upon layers of personal issues I want to address, to enable myself to live the life I want.

I’m young and I want to empower myself to realize the life I have always dreamed of. I want to enjoy a career of my choice, trips alone, and maybe, God willing, a happy and fulfilling relationship one day. But most of all, I just want a shot at being happy with myself, at living life without having to consider what is expected of me, so I can just focus on what is authentic to me. 

It’s too early to say that the session has been helpful, but it has, at least, been able to establish a definite cause for the way I have thought of myself. I’m not over a lot of things yet, but I’m strong enough to have lived through them. 

Seeking professional help, for me, is more a fight to live fully and happily, rather than a fight to choose life over death. I’m relieved to have finally chosen to embark on it. I am hopeful that I’ll overcome the cruel idea of fat, and all the other shallow misgivings, with a newfound love for and sense of self. 

What began with fat, will, hopefully, end with an unconditional love for myself that will empower me to live life to the fullest. Fighting the fight. Keeping the faith.