Topic: Self esteem

I have always loved the idea of following a marked trail…the challenge of needing to find the next marker is “do-able”, and leads one on an unknown path…it may be marked telling you where to go, but you only find out where you are going one marker at a time, bit by bit. I’ve done some beautiful hikes this summer this way. I quite like the beauty of the hikes and the marked trails…I get to enjoy the beauty, and when I come to the next sign, I get told where to go...a good thing for a city slicker-type like me whose sense of direction is limited.

Sometimes therapy can be a little like a marked trail. I go on an internal hike into the life of a client and the client and I don’t know where we’ll end up, but we have the adventure of following one marker to the next…and end up in some pretty neat places that create some significant opportunities for growth. As a therapist who does this with clients frequently, I tend to go on these internal hikes on my own on occasion…in ways which are really helpful.

A few weeks ago, I went to a Josh Groban concert…it was a fabulous concert which I’m still remembering fondly. The stage was at one end of the oval of the MTS center…and our seats were not-quite-at-the-other-end of the arena on the side…which meant that when I sat back in my seat, the stage was to my very far right. The woman sitting to my immediate right was EXCITED to be there (let’s just say that Josh Groban fans are a whole other breed—I’m not quite sure I understand what makes a Grobanite as passionate as they are, but suffice to say, Josh Groban is very seriously admired). She was there with her two sisters who were sitting to her right (is this getting confusing? I’m not good with right and left, and this has taken me a while to figure out how to say this) who were equally passionate to soak in every precious moment with Josh Groban being in the same (albeit large) room as they.

Why do I tell you all about her zealousness? As a result of her desire to get the very best view she could, she leaned forward…leaving me being able to see only the back of her head when I looked at the stage. Now, I may not be a true Grobanite, but if I’m going to be fortunate enough to be at a concert, I’d like a view…I can look at the back of a person’s head and listen to a CD at home for a lot less hassle and the same effect.

Now, Melanie, my good friend, and the office manager at Bergen and Associates Counselling, was sitting to my left…which didn’t leave her with a lot to see either. She poked me to poke her to ask her to lean back. Pretty obvious, right? Except I didn’t want to poke the woman. I just didn’t want to. So I didn’t.

Fortunately, within a few minutes, Mr. Groban let me "off the hook" by coming to the center of the arena to sing a few songs and she sat back. Whew.

So…while he was sitting in the center, in the dark, listening to this beautiful music, I reflected on my strange hesitancy…this time of year I stand in front of 50 students regularly and talk to them for hours, I provide various workshops, I chair a committee I’m on…why would I be so hesitant to just ask a person to sit back in her chair? It was a question that had me curious…it would seem to take a lot more guts to do some of those things…so what was going on?

So, I followed the feeling to the next sign post. What would be my hesitation in tapping her on the shoulder? Hmmm….well, she might scowl at me at me, and not be happy that I asked her to lean back. And I dreaded that possible reaction…and was willing to pay a price of not seeing anything to avoid that possibility.

On to the next part of the path…what would be so awful about her scowling that I dared to ask her that to lean back? And the internal response to the question? I was scared…I mean, not stark terror, but in a way I hadn’t thought about previously, I was fearful of her possible reaction…and so I dreaded her possible response, because of the fear I would have if she scowled.

Hmmm…so, then I had to go one step further…what would I be fearful of if she got nasty and judgemental if I asked her to lean back? And to my surprise, the answer was something like, “If she is nasty to you, it’s because you’ve been a naughty, presumptuous little kid, asking for something that only benefits you…That’s shameful and selfish to ask for something like that, and you deserve that look because that was mean.”

No wonder I didn’t want to tap her on the shoulder to ask her to lean back! Not if I was going to feel scolded from some deep part of me if she should not like my request. I was in a bit of a shame spiral…one that Dr. Brene Brown speaks of so eloquently in her videos and book, I Thought it Was Just Me (a book we have on our shelves that clients often like to read).

Of course, once I followed the signs back to their source, I could have a further little talk with myself. I could remind myself that a scathing look from her would say more about her than it did about me. I could tell myself that if she was nasty, it may have been because she had a bad day or bad month or bad year, and that she was just grumpy for reasons that didn’t have anything to do with me. I could tell myself that she may lack insight into my predicament, if she was less than pleasant. And I could tell myself that maybe she wouldn’t even react badly…it was just my assumption she would.

Well, wouldn’t you know it, at about that time, Mr. Groban gave me a chance to try it out…he moved back to the main stage…and my seat mate leaned waaaay forward to enjoy the concert with her sisters beside her. It took me a few minutes, but suddenly, my courage got the better of me—bolstered by my own little pep talk, I tapped her on the shoulder. She whipped around, and I briefly mimed and muttered a few words about what I was asking. She immediately apologized, and leaned back. Her back was stuck like glue to the chair for the rest of the concert.

It worked! None of what I was fearing, and assumed would happen, happened! She was really nice about it.

In fact, it had the opposite effect, I think. She didn’t look at me the rest of the concert, even though we had chatted intermittently while we waited for the concert to start. I kinda wonder if she felt guilty or ashamed for having leaned forward…even though that wasn’t at all my intent. What would she have found if she had gone on her own internal hike? I wasn’t judging her, or mad at her…but I think she might have been thinking I was…but I digress.

So that was on a Sunday…and I felt empowered. Vaguely foolish at how I had to have my own little mini-session of therapy in order to do something so simple and reasonable, but overall feeling like I had accomplished something big, and now I was a slightly more capable person than I was before.

Not. So. Much.

On Tuesday, a mere two days later, I was at the florist purchasing flowers for a friend. I asked for a bright friendly bunch of flowers…and saw the bright beautiful gerbera daisies which I adore…and hoped she would put one in the bunch. When she reached in the cooler, she grabbed a variety of beautiful blooms, but didn’t put the daisy in. I told myself to ask her, but I couldn’t. A minute later, I told myself it was probably still not too late to ask her, and I could still do it, but I didn’t. I left with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, but sans the daisy I’d hoped for.


And I was mad at myself…as I walked out the store, I realized I’d done it to myself again. Fearing the florist-lady would judge me for doubting her superior flower judgement, and wither me with a look that said, “How dare you ask?!”…which would mean that I must be some horrible person that demonstrated no respect to someone who knew much more than I. Maybe she would give me a reason why she didn’t use a daisy, in such a manner that would have me feeling foolish for having even suggested it in the first place. All the way back to the office (and to Melanie once there, who suffers a blow by blow account of stuff like this), I kept telling myself, “You are a customer…you would be allowed, even encouraged, to tell her what you want…and she’d be happy to give you what you ask for. You can have a preference and speak. You could have asked her…it would have been ok to do so.”

However, being September, it was only a week or so later, and yet another occasion to purchase flowers for another therapist, and I could go back…and this time, I (secretly proudly) said, “I’d love a cheerful, bright bouquet…and I’d love if a gerbera daisy could be a part of it.” And, she said (not unexpectedly to one part of me, and shockingly to another part of me): “Of course”.

Now, there was not guarantee that the lady-next-to-me-at-the-concert or the florist were going to be nice about it. There are grumpy people in this world, and either one of them might have been less than positive. But I think I would have been OK with that…because by then, I’d followed the markers back, and was able to deal with that part of myself that all humans have that get shame-triggered, and understand how to be gently supportive with it in an effective way. Once I understand what’s going on inside of me, I’m less vulnerable to judgements by others in situations like this.

 That little conversation I had with myself at the concert has come to mind, here and there, as I contemplate my actions…and I’ve since found myself freer to make more conscious decisions about asking for something reasonable.

Try it yourself…notice something with curiosity about something that you’ve done or said that feels like it’s out of character for who you feel yourself to truly be…and then gently ask yourself some questions to slowly follow the markers to the original source of “what’s really going on”.

I've been in the listening-to-people's-hearts business for years...and I love it.  Everyone is different and has unique perspectives and challenges...but underlying so many conversations I have with people is the question, "Who will love me for me?"

Who will love me for me?
Not for what I have done or for what I will become
Who will love me for me?

JJ Heller

In a 1000 different ways, I have heard people wonder aloud if they are truly lovable, if they are worthy, if when they have been treated badly, it is proof that they are not lovable, if they are broken, messed up, ugly, repulsive, just not worth it. It's hard to apply for a job, hard to extend love, hard to tackle the challenges of the day when the basic question of "Who will love me for me?" isn't answered.  It creates havoc in a marriage when either or both spouses are convinced the other is pulling away, is less than completely loving, is loving unconditionally.  People change when they are feeling on shaky ground in the love department...they become anxious, try too hard, pull away, get stressed and irritable, stop trying.

Slow down, take a deep breath. Ask yourself if you can identify with the chorus:


Listen to voice deep inside...really deep.  And talk about it with someone who cares.  It's too hard to spend a lifetime of wondering and feeling like you don't have the answer.

You, with your words like knives and swords and weapons that you use
You have knocked me off my feet again, got me feeling like I'm nothing
You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard, calling me out when I'm wounded
You, pickin' on the weaker man...

Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me
And all you're ever gonna be is mean

Why you gotta be so mean?

Taylor Swift

 

Bullies can be powerful, life changing people in our lives.  I find it fascinating that I can't remember a time when I have asked a person who bullied them as a child...they can rattle off first and last name instantly...and eyes look off in the distance, instantly seeing the bully like it was yesterday.  Bullies make a person's world dangerous, and teach suspicion and trepidation in relationships.  People who have been bullied don't trust easily, are hesitant in relationships, and consistently plan for the worst in relationships...and tend to see incidents in relationships through a critical lens.  Ironically...this can create conditions ripe for misunderstanding and conflict as the others, who are not themselves bullies, are seen as though they might be.

Bullying can be overt--by clear intimidation, threats of harm. Bullying can involve yelling, demeaning...over time, the other person believes they deserve that treatment...or if they tell someone, they won't be believed. Bullying can involve threats of all kinds...we all know the kids on the playground that can threaten with a "knuckle sandwich"...but we may be less aware of bullies who threaten to withhold affection in an intimate relationship, or withdraw plans for vacation, or stonewall for days by ignoring a person until s/he gets what they want.

Bullying can be covert...accusing someone else of bullying is sometimes the most effective form of bullying...it's hard to state an opinion or say, "We can't afford it" or say, "The plans you have for vacation don't work with my work schedule" when you've been falsely labelled a bully...everything can be fodder for further accusations...so the "bully" must become passively cooperative in order to avoid having that label...and so the "victim" can pretty much write their own ticket.  The one labelled "bully" is in effect bullied by disempowering them...removing the right to speak up because it will be labelled as mean.

Do you have the courage to ask people in your life if they have experienced bullying behavior from you?  Do you dare ask...do they dare to give you an honest answer?  Do you dare to hear what they have to say and ask further questions out of curiosity and a genuine desire to improve their sense of safety in the relationship?

Very little gives a high like succeeding at something that is a challenge.

We have a saying around the office:  "Robyn sez"...our interior designer is fabulous...amazing how I can be in s space and not see something that she does...moving a chair here, or changing something over there and voila, it's better!  So. knowing she knows waaaay more about this stuff that we do, we just followed her orders when we had her over as part of setttling in, in the new office.

Robyn sez we have to move the printer over 15 feet.  That would be 15 feet farther away from the internet hookup thingy in the wall (you can already tell, that this project is beyond me, that I don't know the proper name for whatever the internet hookup thingy is).  That would be 15 feet farther away from the fax line, and such.  The printer is hooked in with the phone line and the internet for wireless printing.  Then there's the MTS box and the modem (is that what they call it?). 

Deep breath.

So...I tried to figger out how I was going to get this thing done...and gave up doing that on my own.  Gary, the half hamburger sharing guy, came over and drew a diagram.  It involved long cords going through the ceiling and getting splitters and rearranging the plugs and the cords and how everything fit together.

The diagram made it look "do-able"...went from over whelming to simply a challenging project.

Got the proper cords and splitters and Friday after all the clients left, we got to work (have I mentioned that Melanie forgets this is a day job?)

I used a broom handle with the cords taped to the end to thread it through the suspended ceiling.  We used the diagram to figure out what to plug where.  Up the ladder. Down the ladder.  Up the ladder.  Down the ladder.  Repeat.


Then I realized I had two fifty food cords that were where they were supposed to be through the ceiling, and the one end, they both looked the same...and I hadn't labelled them, so I didn't know which was which.  And I taped them together, so pulling on one on one end to see which one jerked on the other end wasn't going to work.

Oops.

Then...we turned it on...and it didn't work.  Sigh.  Switched those two 50 foot cords that I didn't know "which was which" around.  Still didn't work. 

Three long phone calls with my new systems manager...and he and I figured it out.  It worked!!

Went home at 9:30 that night...worked late, but felt good.  Had something concrete to show for that day...challenged myself with something I didn't know how to do...got some help, and allowed myself extra time to try and retry.  Success feels good...even if it just moving a printer over 15 feet.  Doesn't look like a big deal...but I know what a success it was for us!

So...who likes to make mistakes...who likes to live with the consquences of their mistakes? Nobody.  It's lousy to make mistakes.

But some of us can be really hard on ourselves.  I HATE making mistakes.  Especially stupid, foolish, expensive ones that were completely unnecessary, and DUMB. (You get that I can be hard on myself with that last line, which I almost took out, but left in because it is what blurted out of me onto the screen--and it is something which most of us might try to hide, but it might be nice for a reader to realize "I'm not the only one".)

Now…a lot of what I do in my life as part of being a family, as being a therapist or a university educator can’t neatly be quantified as “correct” or “mistake”—my life isn’t usually that clear. As a person who essentially communicates all day long, there can be “more effective” or “less effective” or “better” ways of doing things, but most of my life isn’t black and white about doing it right or wrong. So I work at being the most effective therapist/professor/mom I can be, and recognize that I fall short of optimal, but I'm not an accountant where a mistake is obvious when the numbers don't balance, or a plumber who knows he's blown it when water starts spurting out where it's not supposed to.

I did blow it on Saturday--very clearly and obviously. And I was MAD at myself for making such dumb clearly unnecessary foolish easily-preventable mistake.

I backed into a PARKED car.

It. Wasn’t. Moving.

Sigh…sometime mistakes are so ridiculous, they defy words. This was one of those times. For someone who despises making mistakes, this was one that was mucho frustrating.

And intimidating. The driver was nowhere around so after I took a few pictures, took a few deep breaths and cried, and then cried some more, I wrote a note of apology with my name and phone number.

And then began the anxious wait.

See…I may be a therapist, but I’m human too. And I have a particular discomfort for people getting mad at me, especially when I deserve it. The vehicle owner was going to have to call MPI, take their car in for inspection, then take it for repair. The driver had done nothing but park the car in a parking lot, and now would have extra hassle on a car that used to be fine looking and now wasn’t. I quite catastrophized at the anticipated fury of the other person when s/he called to ream me out for my silly unacceptable and pain-in-the-butt mistake.

I was on a landline answering a call when my cell rang. And then it beeped indicating a message. When I was done my call, I took a few deep breaths before I checked into voice mail. I braced myself, somewhat relieved I was legitimately unable to speak directly to the caller…this way I could listen to the rant I "knew" was coming without having to figure out how to coherently respond.

Then I heard the message…”Hello this is B….I got your note on my windshield this evening. Man, everybody has a bad day sometimes, and today was one of those days for you. You made my day when you left a note on my windshield letting me know what had happened and how to contact you. You could have driven away, but didn’t. Thanx for giving me your phone number. I’ll try calling you tomorrow, or you can call me at…”

I called him right back, and he repeated essentially the same supportive and kind message to me as we spoke. I, of course, again burst into tears. He became even more kind and more supportive. We exchanged some information, and he even chatted and joked about previous car accidents he was in

It was only much later that I realized he was far kinder and gentler on me and my mistake than I was. He will be inconvenienced—but he was far gentler with me than I was on myself.

Reminds me of how often the clients I work with are harder on themselves about what they’ve done than the people around them. How quickly a person moves from not just feeling like, “I made a mistake” to “I am a mistake” in ways which have anger at oneself and frustration and sadness spiral up exponentially. There are some of us, when we make a certain kind of mistake that the line between the former and the latter gets very blurred, even disappearing. It’s lousy to feel like, “I am a mistake”. The challenge is to work to find ways to re-establish equilibrium to regain the solidness, believing with conviction: “That was a stupid mistake”.

So…its now several days after the fender bender…and though I’m still convinced it was a silly foolish mistake, one which I regret and will pay for in very tangible ways…I’m back “on center”…recognizing that I am not a mistake.  Took some deep breaths, had a conversation with good friend, received a supportive hug from one of my tribe, and reminded myself of all the things I talk to clients about when they struggle through the same sorts of things.

One's own medicine can be amazingly hard to swallow. :)

I am Me.  In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it--I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know -- but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me. I am me, and I am Okay."

— Virginia Satir

It's not easy being a woman who is merely human, eh?

If you're a woman, you know what I'm talking about.  We have lumps and bumps; rolls and "handles"; have too little in some places, and too much in others.  Magazines give us advice for tightening various body parts, slimming down, and how to shop for bathing suits and jeans that will accent our assets while playing down the "problem areas".

Yes, we're given the talk by our mothers that it's our inner beauty that counts, and that people who truly love us will find us beautiful because they see all of us—including the inner stuff which makes a woman “glow from the inside out”. Self esteem self-help books abound, we're told to live healthy rather than try to be skinny...blah blah blah.

Yup…we are told all of that…and then we look at the magazine covers, and the billboards, and the commercials, and the pictures in the ads on facebook, and any other internet page we look at…and the covert message is: “you’re UGLY”. 

We don’t measure up. Not at all. There’s hardly a woman out there who doesn’t look at those pictures and wonder where she went wrong, and how come she wasn’t given an appearance like “them”—the models. Sure, there may be a few of you who can get past all of that, and completely revel in your appearance, but most of us are working towards that…and not there yet.

A reader of the blog sent this to me last week:

Powerful stuff, eh? Changes how we look at the billboards. I know the models are airbrushed and electronically tweaked, but I liked being “hit over the head” with that message. I remember one “cover girl”  saying she couldn’t bear to look at her own covers, because she knew she was really so much less attractive than her own image!

But didja wanna know what was the most powerful part of this “stuff” for me? Guess who sent it to me?

An adolescent boy.

A teenage guy.

Apparently he gets it. Maybe he understands…and maybe, just maybe, the women he relates to over the years will be changed because he…and other men like him…will know the truth about what real women look like. They'll understand how artificial the images are, and advertisers will figure this out, and use real people  to sell products. 

And it will start to change how women see themselves, finally loving their bodies as perfectly imperfect.

Here’s hoping it spreads!

"Perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us when, in fact, its the thing that's preventing us from taking flight"

Be who you are and say what you feel because

those who mind don't matter and

those who matter don't mind.

There is a little bit of Cinderella in each of us...a part that feels a little ugly, but earnestly wants to be treasured--to be highly valued by those we value.

For those of you who are parents, watch this video to be reminded of the importance of treasuring each moment with your child. Remind yourself of the delight you have in enjoying the simple moments of the day with your child..and share that delight with your child...this will be a rare and precious gift that you can lavish on your child.  Every child loves to be the apple of a parent's eye. Know that it takes conscious effort to be fully present to enjoy the energy of a child at the end of a long day--but when you are able to value the moment--to laugh at the silliness, console a child's sadness, or to calm a fear, you capture the very essence of all the best it is to be a parent.

For those of you who have a little corner of you that, in a simple childlike way, just want to feel loved, listen and feel the love of the father for his children in this song.  Feel it for yourself, and picture that song is being sung about you.  Many who read this will be among those who long to feel incredibly special for someone. 

Know that you are special and valued today.