I've written before of the futility of the self-esteem movement, how encouraging kids to feel great about themselves just because they are innately great is ridiculous. Either they know innately it is a lie and can't force themselves to smile on the outside while they're dying on the inside or they believe the rhetoric and decide they shouldn't have to work for anything in life, never make mistakes, and sue anyone who says otherwise: neither is an ideal or intended outcome. I came across an article somewhere during my interweb peregrinations that had a much better idea: self-compassion. Instead of telling myself I'm great because, well, I am (anyone else remember a ridiculous movie called 'You Can Do It Duffy Moon?') instead you treat yourself as a person, like any other person, deserving of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, with respect and kindness and dignity. Instead of making up reasons why you are great the way you are, you just look at yourself like you should look at everyone else: a flawed, broken but beautiful mess. There's room for failure and abuse and mistakes and brokenness and bad hair days and losing a soccer game and not liking onions and being afraid of spiders. You can be human and unashamed.
I struggled mightily with 'self-esteem' growing up. I just couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I was an A student, never got in trouble, never talked back, had a job and was in everything (well, everything that didn't involve athletics) and excelled at it all, but I was still miserable and lonely. Self-esteem just rang hollow. Who cares how great of a person I supposedly am if I can't even like myself, let alone anyone else even thinking of liking me? I had all the success a kid my age could hope to attain but it didn't help me feel better about myself, it maybe even made me feel worse. At least if I was a loser I'd have a reason to despise myself but I was left to wonder what congenital social defect estranged me from the rest of humanity. It was 30 years later before I discovered my 'normal' childhood was a toxic wasteland riddled with emotional abuse, neglect, and manipulation. My own parents couldn't be bothered to love me, I internalized that and turned it back on myself as self-loathing. Self-esteem was a wet band-aide on a severed femoral artery.
Self-compassion is a skill I desperately need to learn. It's sort of a reverse 'golden rule,' doing unto myself as I do unto others; to treat myself with all the respect, compassion, patience, gentleness, etc. that I know they deserve but have somehow never realized that I do too, merely for the sake of being human. It's not that I'm great and wonderful and amazing simply for being me, that's a load of manure, but rather as a person I have every right to be treated as one, most especially by myself.
There's a vehicle sitting in my garage, a sensible, budget friendly, reliable vehicle, but I'm still boggled that it is there. Our ancient sedan died a few weeks ago on a trip back to my home state and we had quite the adventure getting home (thankfully no hitchhiking was involved!) but we needed to replace the family vehicle (our other option being an even more geriatric sedan) if we ever hoped to leave town again. So I spent a couple weeks in full-time car search mode finding the right vehicle for our family needs and budget. We test drove a couple and found one we liked and as the price was right we wrote the check (which is apparently weird, as the salesperson kept talking about financing) but we escaped without interest. Now it is in the garage and I feel kind of surreal about it. I've never had a car this nice before (nice being a relative term mind you!) and it scares me. I'm the person who buys her clothes at the thrift store but waits until they have an 'all you can fit in a bag for $1' sale.
Self-esteem would say finance the expensive and flashy sports car because you deserve it just for being you. Self-Loathing says you shouldn't be driving anything newer than 1983, if then! Self-compassion says your family needs a reliable vehicle that will hopefully last a very long time, you've done your homework, it is a sensible choice and it fits your budget, relax and enjoy it for once. Yes, I am trying very hard to have fun with the idea rather than feeling guilty about it. The ironic thing is it isn't like I stole the thing or the money with which we purchased it. But then when you were never good enough to deserve new socks as a child, a car is a really big deal! I'm still struggling with the whole sock thing...and now this!
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