Eric Tian

I’m fading.

As I look back at my friend sitting across me, I’ve realised I’ve comprehended nothing of the last 2 minutes of our conversation. My mind, which is usually fairly awake, is fading quickly from 100% and going into shutdown mode, gradually blocking off the stimulus at the 21^st birthday party I am at. Right now, I’m guessing I’ve faded around 50% and can feel my mind retreating into its cave. Much more of this and I’ll be close to complete mental shutdown, which is not a pretty sight. A voice in my head speaks very clearly to me.

Get out of here.

I quickly scan my surroundings for a getaway. I see a room full of people, finger food, photographers and lights and hear an overwhelming bundle of noises. I find the door that I entered from, the portal which leads to a quieter, less stimulating place. I turn my focus back to the conversation in front of me, my mind now closer to 60% faded. I immediately feel a pang of guilt – it’s unfair to talk to someone who’d rather leave the room than listen to what you have to say.

“I’m sorry.” I interrupt, excusing myself to the toilet.

“Oh, don’t be.” He laughs. “You gotta go when you gotta go.”

Not about the toilet – you deserve someone who will give you the attention you deserve. I’m sorry I couldn’t provide it.

As I leave the room, I hear my mind breath a sigh of relief. Finally – some quiet. I find the toilet and stare mind-numbingly at a wall. “Wouldn’t it be great if the Earth just swallowed us up right now?” I wonder.

Yes. I think so too.

But of course, I don’t control the Earth and I have a 21^st to get back to. I begin the tug-of-war with my mind, cooing it to come out of its cave. “Come on, buddy.” I beg. “Be alive for just a little longer.”

Go away.

I sigh, and begin the familiar protocol to catalyse my mind’s recovery. Knowing my mind likes to be around nature, I walk out of the building, down the stairs into a cool, starry night and find some trees to pace amongst. Hearing my footsteps amongst the pebbles and feeling the cool breeze against my skin does something to stir my mind out of hibernation. The next step is to find somewhere with as little stimulus as possible. I move to somewhere quieter, with fewer street lights, and sit against a tree. Silence. Perfect. Next, I reflect on my day and any interesting conversations I’ve had. My mind traditionally enjoys this game and tonight is no exception: I can feel it emerging from its cave now. The last step, and usually the most effective, is to write: there is something magical about putting pen to paper that makes my mind dance. While I don’t have any paper, I take my phone out and begin jotting some notes down. This acts like coffee for my mind, and I feel myself coming back.

After a while, I walk back up the stairs to the party and check my watch. I was gone for around 10 minutes.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask myself. After a moment, I hear the reluctant reply.

Okay. Let’s go.

I take a deep breath and step back into the room, flinching at the avalanche of stimulus, hoping it won’t be too long until I’ll have to leave it again.

A few months ago, I was listening to a podcast episode whilst preparing dinner. The host, Tom, was talking to Irwin Winkler, a well-renowned film producer and director. Though the whole conversation was interesting, one dialogue caught me off guard when Tom asked,

“What has 50 years in the business taught you about life?”

Irwin’s response (edited for clarity):

“That you can have great successes, you can have terrible failures, and both are really the same. You can never let the successes make you think that you’re better than anybody else and the same thing about your failures. You shouldn’t think that your failures make you any less of a person than the next. You are who you are. You have to pursue your goals the way you have always pursued them, through success and failures, and if you keep trying, you are going to have some failures. You’re also going to have some successes. When you give up, you’re going to have neither. And that itself is failure.”

Irwin’s idea of the dangers of success was fascinating to me: that praise or success might lead to something akin to arrogance, which may actually cause one to stumble and stop doing the things which brought them success in the first place. For instance, a sprinter who has just won a big race may begin to internalise, “Wow, look at me! I’m so fast – nobody can match me.” After this, that champion sprinter might skip workouts, throw out their diet and stay up late, disrupting their sleeping routine. If so, I would be surprised if this athlete could perform at the same level in the next race. Success, when left unchecked, has the potential to become a negative feedback loop.

Perhaps that example may have been a bit extreme, but I’ve personally been guilty of this in my studies recently, whereby my laziness and reliance on ‘intellect’ to cram and learn things quickly has gotten me into trouble this semester. What I really should’ve done was to remember how I previously studied – with slow deliberation and spaced repetition – and to build on these principles.

This idea of being wary of praise and success is applicable to many different areas. In my faith, it means not to be complacent about being saved by grace. In my running, it means not to stop training after a big PB. In my relationships, it means not to stop investing effort into them when things feel smooth. That in all things, when I succeed or someone compliments me, to not let it get to my head.

One of my more useful rituals is to use my birthday to reflect on my life’s journey so far and see what I’ve learnt, overcome or struggled with. Since I just turned 21 just over a week ago, I’ll use this as an excuse to remind myself of 3 big takeaways from the last 21 years.

1) Relationships matter

This is probably the biggest lesson, and is one which I’ve only truly appreciated in the last few months. Typically, I’d run away from spending quality time with people, using my introversion or ‘lack of time’ as excuses to isolate myself. However, I’ve learnt that genuine relationships are beautiful and knowing I have people I can freely talk to is liberating. Healthy relationships have the potential to ground, improve and comfort me in ways I could never achieve alone. It’s difficult to put into words. Of course, the converse applies for toxic relationships. Though it has been a struggle at times, being able to build healthy relationships through University, running or road-trips has been 100% worth it.  

2) I really don’t know that much

Young Eric’s proclivity to give unwarranted advice, make up answers to questions he didn’t know and avoid admitting he was wrong revealed a serious fault: profound arrogance. It’s taken many mistakes and difficult conversations for me to realise that I really don’t know as much as I think. This applies to more than just University, whereby I now realise every biological process I study is severely simplified, but to many other facets – especially to people. It is perhaps through reading fiction that I realised everyone has their own story, prejudices and beliefs and are much more complicated than I could’ve imagined. If anything, being older has made me realise how little I know about anything – this is both an exciting and challenging thought to grasp.

3) Consistency beats motivation

The idea here is that little things done consistently over time produce big results, and the main word is consistency. I could write my own spiel about this, but I think this article by James Clear summarises this concept pretty well:

I have a friend named Nathan Barry who recently finished writing three books in just 9 months.

How did he do it?

By following a simple strategy. He wrote 1,000 words per day. (That’s about 2 to 3 pages.) And he did it every day for 253 straight days.

Now, compare that strategy to the classic image of a writer hiding out in a cabin for weeks and writing like a madman to finish their book.

The maniac in the cabin has a high “maximum speed” — maybe 20 or even 30 pages per day. But after a few weeks at that unsustainable pace, either the book is finished or the author is.

By comparison, Nathan’s maximum speed never reached the peak levels of the crazy writer in the cabin. However, over the course of a year or two his average speed was much higher.

This lesson extends far beyond writing.

Indeed, it applies far beyond writing. This concept of consistency has played a huge role in my development as a Christian (with devotions), student (with studying), athlete (with training) and friend (with catch-ups). When I’m consistent, I tend to do better. When I’m not, I pay for it later on (e.g. cramming for Uni, playing catch-up with relationships).

And that’s it! Other notable lessons from the last two decades and a bit include the importance of sleep and how legit books/audiobooks/podcasts are as learning resources. I look forward to seeing how my perceptions of these lessons evolve over time but for now, this is what I’ve gained from my time here.

Today marks the last day of September 2019 and oh boy, am I relieved to say farewell to it. If I had to describe this month in one word it would be: tiring. For the first time in my life, I experienced the feeling of burnout and how it feels to chronically be in a zombie state. But alas, I am well and recovered and I’d like to take a moment to step back and be grateful for the things I have in my life.

It never really struck me until I was preparing for med interviews, but I am really lucky to be where I am now. UniMelb is the top University in Australia and it sometimes amazes me just how qualified some of my lecturers are – some are almost celebrities in the fields they work in. Melbourne is such a convenient city filled with countless opportunities and I’m lucky to be able to even have options of what I want to pursue as a career. I can’t imagine how much it cost for my family to leave China, start up a new life in Australia and work to be able to support my move to Melbourne.

I’ve also been very fortunate to have met some amazing people. People who have such an enormous heart for serving others. People with a faith so strong that can move mountains. People who are much wiser and more knowledgeable than me who are ready to give advice when I need it. I am incredibly blessed to have a great support network around me.  

And what did I do to deserve this? Honestly, nothing. I was simply born into this family and given these opportunities on a silver platter. Most of the best decisions I’ve ever made were made by my family and I’m incredibly fortunate that they knew what was best for me. A lot of the friends I have now I just kind of fell into and it’s honestly by God’s grace that I fell into a great bunch of people.

There are a lot of other things which I could be grateful for – the ability to learn, see, run, etc. but I think this is sentimental enough. I pray that as I enter October and embark on the final leg of my undergrad degree, I’ll remember to count my blessings and not be too anxious about anything that comes my way.

A few days ago, I went through some of my old journals and stumbled across an entry from 2013. It was the day before my first junior nationals for table tennis and I’d just landed in Victoria with the rest of my squad. I was representing WA in the Under 15 Boys Team and was excited to compete against other states.

That day, the squad went to the stadium in Kilsyth to get some practice in the hall. When I stepped inside for the first time and looked around, I was shocked. All the other athletes looked so good. Their forehands, footwork and agility seemed so high above the WA standard – my standard – and the more I watched, the more I felt my confidence levels plummeting. That night, I wrote in my journal:

“I’m pretty scared. I don’t think I deserve to be here.”

28th September 2013 (age 14)

This was quite a vivid case of imposter syndrome, but I’ve noticed similar feelings in other facets of my life. For my running group, I’ve always been the slowest guy in the squad and I sometimes I wonder if I should even be there. At my work, I occasionally fear someone will realise just how unqualified I am to be purifying proteins and call me out on it. And when I do something I shouldn’t, I sometimes get the sneaky thought of, “You’re not good enough to be a Christian.”

These experiences have been great teachers and I’ve taken two main lessons away. When I have imposter syndrome, it means that:

1. I’m too outward-looking.

“Comparison is the thief of joy.”

Theodore Roosevelt, former American president

In all these experiences, I’ve found myself comparing my standards to other peoples’. If I felt my standard was lower than what was expected of me, imposter doubts began to trickle in. What if I instead looked more inward and reminded myself of my ability to learn and adapt? I’d imagine I would begin to feel excited to rise to the challenge ahead of me rather than wonder why everyone else seems to do it fine.

2. I’m being pushed to perform at a high standard.

All these experiences have been in environments where I had to perform at a standard beyond my level – these then led to thoughts of inadequacy. But being asked to perform at a high standard can be a good thing, can it not? If I ever felt completely fine or even arrogant about my standing, I’d be complacent. If I didn’t have my running club to push me, I’d be at a lower fitness level than I’m at now. Likewise, if I didn’t go to junior nationals to witness the standard of other states, I wouldn’t have been able to rise to the pressure and set higher goals for myself in later years.

So, thoughts of imposter syndrome can be quite exciting as it indicates an opportunity to learn, grow and overcome new hurdles. All it takes is a little shift in perspective.

As Uni begins tomorrow, I’m reminded of this idea of average speed vs maximum speed. I first came across this idea a few months ago on the blog of James Clear and it has stuck with me ever since. The idea is that for long term progress, aim in maintaining a consistent average speed in whatever work you do, rather than focusing on a high maximum speed.

James provides the examples of writing books and going to the gym to illustrate the surprising power of consistency versus bursts of motivation. Writing 1,000 words a day over a year or going to the gym 5 days a week will yield better long-term results than frantically writing before a deadline or excessive sudden lifting. While this concept may seem like common sense, common sense doesn’t always equal common practice. It’s easy in the moment to skip a few study sessions early in the semester, where assessments are a long way off… only to have chronic stress and regret when SWOTVAC begins, grinding out 10-hour study days. Ah, the joys of first year.

I hope I can keep this in the back of my mind as I navigate my surroundings this year to make better long-term decisions in my goals. It’s often the little does done consistently that make the biggest differences.