I’ve always been more than average.
Even before I started going to school, I remember the countless times my mum would take me to our local libraries, let me borrow infinite amounts of books, and take me to different programs such as story time and craft time.
My parents supported me. Encouraged me to be better. To read. To write. To do whatever my heart wanted to do.
When I finally started going to school, I fell in love with reading and writing. I would spend my afternoons curled up with a good book (or more correctly, books), and then hopped off to whatever after-school activity I had on that day.
As I became older, I became more involved with my school activities. I was known as the ‘smart kid’. You know the one. I was typically known as the nice, quiet, well behaved girl with glasses who was more academically inclined than her fellow peers.
I joined the school choir in Year 3, became an SRC member for a year or two, joined mini vinnies, got accepted twice into the writing group, participated (and won) the annual public speaking contest for 4 years, joined the debating team and the guitar club and finally, was elected as the school captain in year 6.
Yep. I was definitely more than average.
It was a lot, but I was happy doing all those things. I was happy with the image I created for myself, the good attention that I received, the things I worked my ass off for.
I never thought I would be anything less than more-than-average.
I was wrong.