A sense of self

I know from the self esteem help book that to have good self esteem, it has to be internal and not too dependent on what anyone else thinks. I’ve not merely had sense of worth issues of this shape, but for much of my life have depended on looking outwards to get some feeling of who I am. I’ve not had a terribly coherent sense of identity. Now, the business of looking outward is fine and dandy when there are smooth clear mirrors to look into, but most of life hasn’t been like that. Most reflections are a bit wobbly, some have been downright distorted. But with little intrinsic sense of identity and not much innate self esteem, how could I tell what was useful feedback and what was rubbish?

The short answer is that I couldn’t, and that it caused me a lot of trouble.

It’s been a testing week. Many of them are, that in and of itself is not unusual. Partly because of that habit of looking outwards. Partly because there are a great many things I care about and partly because it is not in my nature to choose the easy options.

I know what I do and I know what I have done, as well as anyone can reasonably hope to. I know my intentions as well as anybody ever does. I know what drives me, and what gets me out of bed in the morning. (Needing a pee, mostly.) Judging myself on how well I fit other peoples’ expectations and interests is not a particularly useful measure. Not least because I fail to come out as ‘normal’ in so many ways and there are people who keep on not liking this about me.

I saw a beautiful thing this week, thanks to Paul Newman. It was a photo of a Nazi rally. (Stay with me). In the middle of the sea of raised arms, was one guy with his arms folded. One failure to conform. One questioning face. It made me cheer. As an image it pinned down so much of what I feel and believe, and I think this stuff matters, and apparently I’m not alone in this.

I know that I do the best I can with the resources I have. I know that I try very hard to do the right things, for the right reasons. I also know that, being human, I muff this up sometimes. I no longer accept that I deserve to be beaten to a bloody pulp for every shortcoming, real or imagined. I also try very hard to accept people on their own terms, see the best in them, tolerate difference and celebrate diversity. This does not mean that every bigot and idiot who crosses my path has the unassailable right to treat me like shit. I’ve let that happen far too often.

I realised, this week, that its no good talking about doing the right things for the right reasons whilst letting total assholes push me around, belittle me, and otherwise make my life unnecessarily difficult. I do not have to accept the bendy freak show mirrors they offer as reflections of who I am. I do not have to internalise every piece of criticism that comes my way. I am not the sum and total of how everyone else perceives me. I am the sum and total of what I do, think and feel. Only I can ever really be the judge of that.

I do know who I am. I do know people who share in that sense of my identity and who consequently like being around me and treat me as though I have innate worth. The other ones I can do without. Of course the people who put me down tell me that they are cleverer than everyone else, they see more, understand more, and so forth. I do not have to believe them. I have a choice. I also think I might be a lot more useful and functional if I stopped trying to please people who are innately unpleasable.

Show me another twisted, misleading mirror and I’m going to put my boot through it.