This is a story of a 22 year old woman who shared her story as a Straight A’s student as a child and into university. While she was academically successful, she recounts her journey with her mental health and how it affected her outlook in life.
Since I was young, I was always “academically gifted” as people used to say to me. I got straight A’s all throughout primary and secondary school. To be honest, it was not a “gift” but it was my determination to make my family proud and become successful.
The pressure was really high as both my parents are academics in a local university in Malaysia, and both of them have their doctorate. I was the only child, with all their hopes, dreams and societal expectations put on my shoulder.
Since I was eight, I have been religiously going for tuition class, piano lessons, tennis and programming after school. My parents expected nothing less than grades in the 90s. The margin for error was small, and I kept up by pressuring myself.
I don’t remember playing with friends as a kid. It was classes after classes, followed by homework then reading assignments by my parents.
Monday to Friday I would go to a babysitter’s place after school, where the neighbouring aunty would feed me and I would take a shower. At 3pm, I would be picked up by another driver aunty that my mom hired to take me for tuition or an extracurricular class.
Then my mom would pick me up around 7pm, we would head home, have dinner together with my dad and then I would do my homework.
If I didn’t have enough homework to occupy me till bedtime, I would have to do assigned reading, which was books or literature that was selected by my parents.
Each book read had to be followed by a book report that included a synopsis and a literary analysis. That was the norm.
When I entered high school, my parents transferred me to an international school, spending an exorbitant amount of money on my yearly tuition fees. They said they did this so I would have a better chance to get into an Ivy League school.
While most teenagers have memories of sneaking out and having fun with their friends, my only memories are about studying and going for tuition. Due to my high grades, I managed to skip a year here and there and ended up doing my A Levels when I was 16.
During that time period, I slept little and spent most days with books. When my friends were out at birthday parties and pool parties, I was with my books.
When I passed with flying colors, my parents told me how it was all worth it, because of my sacrifices I had good results. I was proud of myself, but on the inside I was dying.
I had no friends that I was close to. I never invested time in friendships as I was raised to think that education is the only thing that mattered. During this time, I was heavily depressed. I felt like I was being forced to live a life that was not mine. I had no say in anything and had to just go along the path that was set out for me.
A Darkness Overcame Me
Right after my A-Levels, I felt so depressed that I tried to end my life. My parents found me in my room and rushed me to the hospital. Before they checked me into the psych ward, they both gave me an earful about how disappointed they were and how much hassle I was causing.
I had to stay in the psyche ward at PPUM. In those two weeks, I had to go through multiple evaluations with a psychiatrist, who later diagnosed me with Bipolar disorder and put me on a whole concoction of medications.
I didn’t “recover” but the medications did stabilize me.
My parents never told anyone what happened, and to our family and friends – I was in the hospital for a viral infection. This helped them cover up so no one could visit.
Right after that, I received my acceptance letter to a prestigious university in the States. I told my parents I did not want to go as I wanted to stay in Malaysia. They said I would have no choice in this matter, and I needed to fulfill this. I left a week before the semester started and fell back into the routine of studying. I didn’t know any better.
The A’s kept coming
I found it hard to socialize with American kids, and studying Aeronautical Engineering, the pressure was really high. My batch mates were the best of the best from around the world and the competition was extremely high.
I would wake up at 6am head to the library, go for classes, then head back to the library. We had access to a 24 hour library so I would stay sometimes till 2 or 3am, until my eyes couldn’t open anymore.
My grades stayed top of the class and my parents would check in on me every week, ask about my education, but never about me.
I would see them post on Facebook for their friends and colleagues about how proud they were of me, not knowing how much I was suffering on the inside.
I graduated with distinction last year, and came back to Malaysia. Now, I’ve been home for almost a whole year, burnt out and not able to even have the energy to figure out what I want to do next in my life.
I have never had a boyfriend, and the few friends I have are halfway across the world. I’m now unemployed, sitting at home, binge-watching TV. My parents are surprisingly not saying much. Once in a while, they ask me what my plan is, but I’m sure soon they will let me know what I should do next.
Academic burnout isn’t just about being tired of studying. It’s the crushing emptiness that comes when a person’s entire identity has been built around achievement, only to find that once the exams are over, there is nothing left to anchor them. It leaves many young people lost, unsure of who they are outside of grades, awards, and the approval of others. Burnout, in this sense, isn’t merely exhaustion—it is a kind of grief for the self they never had the chance to become.
Perhaps the real challenge for high-achievers is not in scaling higher peaks, but in slowing down and rebuilding an identity beyond academic success. What if worth were measured not in grades or degrees, but in the ability to live with balance, joy, and self-acceptance?
For students and parents caught in the same cycle, maybe the question to ask isn’t “what can you achieve next?” but “who are you becoming in the process?”
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