If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.
I am my own biggest fan. I don’t think any human is intrinsically worth more than any other, so I’m not saying this in a way that I intend as pride or vanity. Nor do I think that I’m not sufficiently loved and celebrated by others. I mean, sure, I wouldn’t mind more fans for my band, but I am certainly well-loved by family and friends. I even seem to be held in high esteem for assorted reasons in assorted other circles.
And, as I touched on in the post on being awesome, I am well aware that people often feel I should be ashamed of thinking I rock. But I refuse.
Refuse!
Because I fought hard for this self esteem. I went from the self loathing I wrote about last week to this. This! This magical feeling where I see my awesomeness. Where, no, I’m not blind to flaws, but I could list out ways in which I am, to my tastes, great. I’ve now felt this way a few years and still, as I write this, I’m bubbling up with glee that I feel this feeling.
I wish everyone felt this feeling. My sincere plan for world peace involves everyone getting enough sleep and everyone having the sort of healthy self-esteem where they see their own goodness and worth without feeling like others are less than them. Really, since I became my own biggest fan, I’ve found I’m less likely to think hateful thoughts about others. Or to worry overly about what those others think of me.
I find that I try to live in a way that honours how I feel, that treats me well, but that also shines out my kindness and goodness to others. (I think everyone has light to shine if they’ll let themselves.)
Now, about the fight for this…I’m pretty sure I mentioned at least some of this in another post, but I can’t find it to link to and maybe this is the only post you’ll read, so I’m going to put some stuff here.
I got professional help. And we were working on my depression (and, really, if you don’t love you, maybe you also fight some depression). And I was given some assignments when she saw that my self-loathing was pretty raging. I’ve passed this advice on to friends…and I’m pretty sure some have used it…actually, I know some have because they’ve told me it helped. (But I only get credit for passing it on; this wasn’t stuff I came up with to do. All credit to my lovely counsellor for this.) Both things here came down to being honest with myself.
As I mentioned in the post on being awesome (in the last half of that post), part of what I had to set aside was culturally imparted fears of being prideful or of being seen as putting myself on unequal footing with the rest of humanity. Honesty can be hard.
Part of what I had to do was pierce through the thick cloud of lies others had told me about myself and that I had bought into and then reinforced with some kind of scary zealousness. Honesty can be hard.
So here were my two most helpful “homework†assignments:
- I had to keep a list of external proofs…Compliments I received, certificates for academic excellence, notes thanking me for kind acts, anything that was someone outside of me saying good things about me. This felt decadent and I felt silly and hoped no one would know. But I did it. Every. Little. Thing. Including things like “Thank you for hanging back to help clean up.†Seriously. Because I could look at that and see, for instance, that I was responsible, kind, a good friend.
Note: This is why I am now a huge fan of giving sincere compliments and of thanking or praising people for the good they do. - I had to make lists of my good qualities. I was sent home with a list of areas (physical, mental, social, etc) and told to list five good things about myself in each. It could be big things or small. Just…five. And I failed. I got maybe one or two in each, and those came after agonised hours of thinking and crying and belittling myself. In fact, most were phrased as “My mum says…†So, I got sent home with the same assignment, but with the clarification that I had to leave my mum out of it. For instance, “My mum says I have nice eyes†had to become “I have nice eyes.†Again, I spent hours agonising and struggling and crying. And I didn’t even manage one thing per category. And I know I spent time looking over the then-new list of external proofs. I took that in…My counsellor gave me praise for what I’d managed, and then told me to keep at it. And we checked in every appointment to see where I was on that list. Torture! But I kept at it. (Because I am a determined beast.)
One logical twist (thank you, brain, for being logical underneath it all) that helped was this: I looked at the people who loved me. Especially those to whom I wasn’t related, because I felt like they had more choice. I concentrated on how great those people were, and then I asked myself why people that great would settle for someone as rubbish as I thought I was. They had options. They chose me. Or I asked if I really thought they were so dishonest that every kind thing they said about me was a lie. Did I really think these great people were actually liars. My brain sulked. It wanted to believe because it knew that liking myself would change things, and my brain clings to familiarity. Honesty can be hard.
But I kept at it. I kept at it and it got easier. And when I found myself saying negative things to myself about myself, I made myself stop. I made myself revisit my lists.
Like any human, I still have those moments when the negative self-talk creeps in. I make a mistake, a do a dumb thing, and I am naturally inclined—thanks to all those years of this being habitual—to start berating myself. But I choose to stop. I mindfully insist on thinking other things. I choose to tell myself the things I’d say to me if I were my friend and not me. (Seriously, that’s one of my favourite tips: talk to yourself and treat yourself as you would a good friend.) Because I am my friend. I even wrote myself a poem about that. And I like me. I would definitely date me. Befriend me. Trust me with my cat.
And I see sometimes the shock or resentment in people’s faces when I admit that. But I also swear that I see, when people suggest that this feeling is something I shouldn’t admit to, that they wish they felt this strongly about themselves.
You know what? I wish it too. I really, truly do.
I want you to go and get enough sleep (I will never stop extolling the virtues of consistent adequate sleep) and then start making lists and offering sincere compliments and thanks to others.
Because I am my own biggest fan and I am not ashamed…I am bursting with glee and light!
Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).