Tag: proud
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Love Yourself, on Valentine’s Day and Always
“Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we’ll ever do.” Brené Brown
Growing up I watched my grandparents’ relationship with longing. They anticipated each other’s needs, they did small loving gestures for each other every day, and they put the other first without resentment. I longed to have a relationship like theirs one day and meet someone who understood me the way they understood each other.
In contrast, I observed the relationship between my parents. My mother was constantly in a state of panic trying desperately to please my father. Her actions were always met with contempt and criticism, and her pleas for attention and affection were ignored.
He never anticipated her needs or cared about what she wanted. He did whatever suited him, he said whatever he thought, criticized and complained constantly, rarely helped around the house, except for cooking, which he loved, and he always got his way in the relationship. I did not want a relationship like that and the thought of becoming anything like my mother repulsed me.
When we are raised in a toxic environment we are often not taught how to love and value ourselves. We are not taught to stand up for ourselves or develop healthy boundaries with others. As a result, we are drawn to abusive and/ or toxic relationships because this way of being treated feels normal.
Throughout high school and university, I attracted a string of relationships that reflected my upbringing.
I formed friendships with people who used me and discarded me, who expressed their opinions, views, and values but could not care less about mine. I had employers who did not value me, and I acted passive and eager to please because I had been taught that this was the only way to be liked and valued.
I attracted romantic partners who abused me verbally and physically and treated me the same way my father treated my mother.
The people in my life would say things to me such as “I will love you if…” “I will treat you better when…” “I will only care about what you have to say if and when…”
These statements were familiar, so I accepted them without question, but I was trapped in a cycle of abuse and self-loathing. A cycle that was hurting me and holding me back from becoming the person I was meant to be.
I have learned that you cannot expect another person to love, respect, or value you if you do not love or value yourself. If you do not love yourself, you fail to uphold healthy boundaries that protect your dignity and personal value and you allow others to define you in ways that are demeaning and self-serving.
For me, self-love stated by discarding old narratives that others had told me for years. I was not worthless or incompetent. I was not defined by the grades I did not get in high school or the mistakes I made while I was learning new skills. I was not lazy. I was not going to come to a sad end or be a burden to society. I was going to do great things with my life. I was going to thrive!
If you were raised in a toxic environment you likely were taught that self-love is narcissistic, that being aware of your own needs and putting those needs first is selfish and wrong, and that you should continue to sacrifice yourself for the good of others who matter more than you.
What you need to remember is that these words were likely said to you by people who benefited from your self-sacrifice and self-hatred. There is nothing wrong with expressing your own needs, wants, and desires or setting and achieving goals that would allow you to lead a full life. You become your best self when you do these things and you are better able to help others in a meaningful way.
Once I started to love myself my life began to transform. I started to set healthy boundaries with people, and the relationships in my life began to change. People who were in my life to use me as a tool fell away, and although I was sad to lose these so-called friendships I began to attract reciprocal relationships. In social situations, I was listened to and my opinons were respected and valued for the first time in my life!
I began to get a clear picture of what my goals and needs actually are, and I started to understand myself in a way I had never done before.
When you grow up with abuse in any form you are not taught who you are. Instead, you are given a self-serving, subordinating narrative of yourself by the abuser that reflects who they are and serves their own selfish needs. If you hold on to this narrative, you can never be fully you or live up to your potential life because you are forced to be blind to your own needs and strengths.
Once I consciously choose to let go of the past narratives of others, I was free. This did not mean that I was blind to my shortcomings or that I felt entitled, arrogant, or self-important. It meant that I embraced my strengths, was compassionate with myself when I made mistakes, I was aware of my needs, and I gave myself permission to rest and reflect when I needed it.
I have learned that self-love is a process. For me, that process involved writing down what I like about myself, my past accomplishments that I am proud of, what I am good at, what I need in relationships and work environments.
It meant having the courage to walk away from relationships with people who do not respect me including members of my own family.
It involved setting myself up for success and happiness by building on my strengths while allowing myself to grow.
I got my masters, started my Ph.D., joined a competitive swim team, and helped my students and friends in meaningful ways and formed meaningful relationships with like-minded people. I took risks that have led to rewards I could never have imagined. My point here is not to brag but to illustrate that I had I not learned to love myself, I would not have been able to accomplish these things.
Let go of narratives that no longer serve you, do what you love, believe that in your abilities, and know that someone will love you for you! Self-love is a choice and one I hope you will choose on Valentine’s day and always.
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What I Did to Survive: Not Proud but I Forgive Myself
“Forgive yourself for not knowing better at the time. Forgive yourself for giving away your power. Forgive yourself for past behaviors. Forgive yourself for the survival patterns and traits you picked up while enduring trauma. Forgive yourself for being who you needed to be.” ~Audrey Kitching
I used to suffer from survivor’s remorse.
What does this mean exactly? Well, I was ashamed of the things I did to survive.
As I reflected back on my life, I’d get filled with sadness, shame, and regret.
Sadness because I did things that were against my moral values when I knew right from wrong.
Shame because I did things that I never thought I would have to do, in order to survive.
Regret because I was involved in drugs, sex, and violence.
I had kids to feed, and they depended on me. As a single parent, I was willing to do whatever I had to do for them. I would sell tools and electronics for gas money. I would sell plates of food to buy diapers. I even chose to sell my body. I did whatever I needed to do to get by.
I hurt family and friends along the way and lost their trust with my broken promises. Promises that I would pay back money that I borrowed, knowing I wouldn’t be able to. I used people for my own personal gain. My pain caused other people pain.
I was risking my whole life, and I didn’t even realize it. I could have gone to jail and lost my kids, all because I was trying to provide for them.
How Did I Get Into a Life of Drugs, Sex, and Violence?
Well, I had a rough childhood; I dealt with physical, verbal, and sexual abuse as a child, and witnessed abusive relationships amongst relatives and family friends . I processed this into rejection, fear, and anger.
I struggled to feel love because I equated it with hurt. My family members said they loved me and then did things that caused me pain. I thought this must be love; this is normal behavior.
The hurt turned into anger, and then I started to resent people. This caused extreme paranoia.
Still, despite my relationship fears, through a twisted turn of events, I had a baby at fifteen years old. I told myself I would do anything to make sure my son didn’t have the same life I’d had.
Then at eighteen years old I was a homeless high school senior.
My Survival Tactics
I found myself on public assistance. I was in situations that evoked the exact feelings I’d experienced as a child, when I saw my mother depend on welfare and food stamps to get by. I felt impoverished, worthless, and dependent on a system to survive.
I found myself wrapped up in an abusive relationship, with three kids now, around drugs, around violence, and I saw no way out. This was my life. I wanted to leave, and I tried to many times, but he held me at gunpoint, locked me in a closet, and even choked me at times.
Domestic violence is a learned behavior. I witnessed it growing up and he witnessed it as well. This abuse was familiar. I didn’t know if I was prepared for the fight. I needed to be loved, so I accepted any love I could get even when it hurt.
I eventually chose to break the cycle and free myself from the lifestyle I was caught in, but it left me at ground zero. I had to fight for myself, for my kids, for our future. I had to get out of this abusive relationship before he killed me, or I killed him. I’d had enough!
But leaving was just the beginning of change, and not the end of my stress. My fight-or-flight response was constantly activated. I was always thinking, “I got to do something. My kids need shelter, food, and clothing.”
I needed food stamps, I needed public assistance, I needed section 8 housing. I needed everything I could get to survive.
I was doing things that I knew were wrong—lying and stealing what didn’t belong to me—but I felt like I had no choice. I couldn’t call anyone to come save me. I had already borrowed money from people. I couldn’t depend on help from my kids’ father. No one was coming to protect me. I had to save myself.
I felt helpless. At this point I had a high school diploma, little job experience, and no stability. I was in complete survival mode.
I did not possess the language to tell someone that I was hurting, that I was struggling and needed help. My fear (ego) told me that no one would listen, and no one would care.
I feel so ashamed for lying to my mother, for stealing, for degrading my body. I know this is not who I am, but looking back I can see these were my survival tactics.
I only wanted to survive, and guess what? I did.
But eventually I wanted more than that. I wanted freedom. The freedom to let go of the past. These secrets that I was ashamed to say out loud.
This was over fourteen years ago. I was still holding on to guilt.
My Accountability
I never wanted to talk about my past because it was painful. I wanted it to disappear.
I didn’t want to admit that I was broke with $2.29 in my bank account, with three kids.
I didn’t want to admit that I was on food stamps because I couldn’t afford food.
I didn’t want to admit that I’d taken other people’s property for my personal gain.
I didn’t want to admit I’d used my body for financial gain.
I didn’t want to admit that I was in pain from different traumas, and I was self-medicating with drugs.
Still, I had to stop and realize that I’d made it and could now focus on thriving—but I could only do that if I forgave myself. That required self-compassion. But I also realized I couldn’t blame anyone else; I had to take complete and total responsibility.
I had to take responsibility for my choices. I had to take responsibility for doing what I felt I had to do to survive.
Note to self: “Beating yourself up for your flaws and mistakes won’t make you perfect, and you don’t have to be. Learn, forgive yourself, and remember: We all struggle; it’s just part of being human.” ~Lori Deschene
My Forgiveness and Pride
I had to forgive myself for not understanding my power and for inheriting patterns from the trauma I’d experienced.
I also had to give myself credit for breaking the cycle.
I remember once, I was having a conversation with my three daughters, and I was telling them about a time when they were little, and I couldn’t afford to do certain things. One of my daughters said, “Aww, Mom. You used to be poor?”
In that very moment, I realized that I had survived. And I had created a better future for myself and my kids. Not only did I make it, I provided a lifestyle for my kids without drugs, sex, or violence.
I apologize if I was toxic energy in anyone’s life, including my own. My forgiveness doesn’t mean that the guilt never existed; it just means I’m letting go of the shame and pain that once controlled my life.
I used to feel a sense of strength because I’d endured a high amount of abuse, but deep down I was so fragile.
At this very moment in my life, I now choose to measure my strength by how quickly I release things that threaten my peace of mind.
I looked at my sadness, I looked at my regret, I looked at my shame straight in the mirror. I acknowledged them, accepted my past, and decided they would no longer control me. This was my first step toward my freedom.
I made mistakes. I was doing the best I could. I realized I was afraid of speaking my truth, but it’s my truth that’s setting me free.
Whatever you did in the past to survive, I’m sure you did the best you could too. You were hurting and you used the tools you had based on what you’d witnessed and learned.
But the past is behind you now. You don’t have to beat yourself up over who you’ve been. Accept your past. Learn from it. Forgive yourself for being who you thought you needed to be. And face your shame so you can let it go. You’ve been through enough. Why torture yourself even more?
Whatever you’ve been through, and whatever you’re going through now, may your truth set you free and may you heal from your pain.
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We Keep Going, One Tiny Step at a Time, and We Should Be Proud
“Don’t wait until you reach your goal to be proud of yourself. Be proud of every step you take.” ~Karen Salmansohn
One of the greatest ironies of being human is that we’re often hardest on ourselves right when we should be most proud.
Let’s say you finally find the courage to start a dream project you’ve fantasized about for as long as you can remember. You push through years of built-up fears, overcome massive internal resistance, and take the leap despite feeling like you’re jumping through a ring of fire, above a pit filled with burning acid.
It’s one of the most terrifying things you’ve ever done. It dredges up all your deepest insecurities, triggers feelings you’d rather stuff down and ignore, and brings you face to face with the most fragile, vulnerable parts of yourself.
The fact that you’re even willing to take this risk is huge. Monumental, really. Just getting on this long, winding path is an accomplishment worth acknowledging and celebrating. Most people avoid it. They do what they’ve always done and remain stuck in discontent, wishing they could know a life less limited.
But you? You’re trying. You’re taking a chance at being who you could be, knowing full well there are no guarantees. You’re a f*cking rockstar. A total badass for giving this a go. But you likely don’t see it that way.
You likely think you’re not doing enough, or doing it fast enough, or doing it well enough for it to count. You might get down on yourself for not learning more quickly, or having a perfectly honed vision and plan from the start.
Instead of giving yourself credit for every inch you move forward, you might beat yourself up for not leaping a mile.
Or maybe you’re not pursuing a dream for the future. Maybe you’re facing a pain from the past.
Let’s say you’re finally leaning into your anxiety or depression instead of numbing your feelings with booze, food, or any other distraction. Perhaps you’re in therapy, even, trying to get to the root of your complex feelings and heal wounds that have festered, untended, for years.
It’s intense, draining work that few can understand because there’s no visible representation of just how deep your pain goes. No way to fully explain how tough it is to face it. No way to show how hard you’re trying, every day, to fight a darkness that seems determined to consume you. So on top of being emotionally exhausted, you quite frequently feel alone.
Just acknowledging the pain beneath the mental and emotional symptoms is an act of immense bravery. And allowing yourself to face it, however and whenever you can—well let’s just say they should give out medals for this kind of thing. You’re a f*cking hero. A total badass for doing the work to save yourself. But you probably don’t see it that way.
You might think you aren’t making progress fast enough. Or you’re weak for having these struggles to begin with. Or you suck at life because sometimes you fall back into old patterns, even though on many other occasions, you don’t.
Instead of giving yourself credit for every small win, you might beat yourself up for being a failure. As if nothing you do is good enough, and you’ll never be good enough, because you’re not perfect right now.
Because if it’s not all happening right now—the healing, the growth, the progress—it’s easy to fear it never will. And it will be all your fault.
If it seems like I’m speaking from personal experience, that’s because I am.
I followed a decade of depression and bulimia with years of self-flagellation for not healing overnight and magically morphing into someone less fragile.
I responded to childhood trauma by abusing myself for acting insecure and emotionally unstable, even when I was actively trying to learn better ways to live and cope.
And I crucified myself for every cigarette and shot when I was trying to quit smoking and binge drinking, even though I quite frequently went long stretches of time without doing anything self-destructive.
Through all this internal whip cracking, I consistently reinforced to myself that I was weak for not changing overnight when really I should have acknowledged I was strong for making any progress at all.
It was like I was watching myself treading water, with broken limbs, while screaming at myself to hurry up and get stronger instead of throwing myself the rope of my own self-encouragement.
In retrospect, this makes sense. This is how most of us learn growing up—not through validation but punishment. We far more often hear about what we’re doing wrong than what we’re doing right. So instead of supporting ourselves through our deepest struggles, we berate ourselves for even having them.
Though I’ve made tremendous progress with this over the years, and I’m no longer in crisis, I still find myself expecting instant perfection at times.
I’m currently pushing myself far beyond the edge of my comfort zone—so far I can’t even see it from where I’m precariously floating.
I’m writing more here on the site after years of working through an identity crisis I’ve never publicly discussed.
I’m trying to get funding for a feature film I wrote, with themes that are deeply personal to me, knowing the “low budget” is still no easy amount to raise, and I might fail spectacularly.
I’m working on multiple new projects with third party companies—something I’ve avoided in the past because I’m a control freak who doesn’t easily trust others to take the reins.
And I’m doing it all while pregnant—six and a half months to be exact—at almost forty years old. So on top of all the usual fears that accompany big risks and changes, I’m juggling your garden-variety new parent concerns, with a few geriatric-pregnancy-related worries for good measure. (Yes, geriatric. My uterus could be a grandmother!)
I’m pushing myself into a new league, far outside my little work-from-home introvert bubble, while frequently feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted. And I’m finally giving myself the leeway to evolve after years of saying I wanted to grow but refusing to let go of my comfort to enable it. Really, I should be proud.
Every time I take a meeting when I’d rather do only what I can accomplish myself, every time I send an email for a new opportunity when it would be easier to passively wait for whatever comes to me, every time I push myself to be the brave, fulfilled person I want to be for both myself and my son, I should throw myself an internal parade. A festival complete with a float in my own image and endless flutes of the best champagne. (I know, I’m pregnant, but it’s internal, remember? Keep the bubbly flowing!)
But do I do this? To be fair, yes. Sometimes I do. And I’m proud of myself for that. I’ve come a long way from the self-abusive girl who only knew to motivate with intimidation and fear.
But other times I can be pretty hard on myself. It’s like I have this vision of how this all should work, and when, and I blame myself if I can’t meet my rigid expectations on my ideal timeline.
I don’t always step back and see the big picture: That there are many external factors I can’t control, and I need to be adaptable to deal with them. That it’s hard to learn new things, and no amount of willpower or dedication can make the process instant. That some things simply take time, and this isn’t a reflection of my worth or my effort.
I get impatient. I get frustrated. I get anxious and resistant.
And really it all comes down to attachment. I resist this slow, uncertain process, and bully myself into making things happen more quickly, because I want these things so bad I can taste them, and I fear they may never happen at all.
I want the freedom these new opportunities could provide. I want the fulfillment of bringing my creative vision to life. I want the things I tell myself I should have made happen years ago, and I want them now so I can focus on the joy of attainment instead of beating myself up for having “wasted time.”
But none of this internal drama is useful or productive, and it certainly does nothing for my motivation or focus. It’s nearly impossible to create from your heart when it’s totally eclipsed by anxiety and fear.
The only way to do anything effectively is to accept where you are, let go of the outcome, and throw yourself into the process.
So going forward, when my mind tries to bully me into doing more than I reasonably can or shame me for my pace or my progress, I’m going to remind myself I’m doing better than I think. We all are. And we all deserve more credit than we likely give ourselves.
We all deserve credit for facing our demons, chasing our dreams, and showing up every day when it would be easier to hide.
We all deserve acknowledgment for every tiny step forward, no matter how slow or timid, because creating change is hard.
We all deserve recognition for the many internal hurdles we overcome, even though they’re not visibly apparent to anyone else, because often they’re harder to tackle than even the most challenging external obstacles.
And we all deserve the peace of knowing that who we are right now is enough. Even if we have room to grow, even if there are things we’d like to achieve, we are good enough just as we are. And it’s okay to be right where we are.
It’s okay to be messy, inconsistent, and not always at our best. It’s okay to feel insecure, unsure, lost, confused, and scared. It’s okay to make massive advances on some days and just get by on others.
Would it be nice if we could instantly transport ourselves to the idealized future we see in our heads? Sure. But that’s not really what it means to “live our best life”—despite what our YOLO-promoting culture would have us believe.
Living our best life is embracing what is, while working to create what can be. It’s doing the best we can with what’s in front of us, and accepting that nothing else is guaranteed. Because this is the only moment we know for sure we have.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize I missed most of it because I always felt it needed to be more—and that I needed to be more—to fully appreciate and enjoy what I had while I had it.
So today, I’ve decided to be proud. Of my strength, my efforts, my progress, and the fact that I keep going. Whether I’m wounded, weary, or worried, I keep getting back up. I keep moving forward. I keep evolving. I am doing the best I can. So are you. And that’s something worth celebrating.
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Don’t Forget to Appreciate How Far You’ve Come
“Remember how far you’ve come, not how far you have to go. You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be.” ~Rick Warren
We’re always talking about how we should live in the now and “be present.” We shame ourselves for looking back at the past or into the future, thinking that we shouldn’t look too far ahead or worry about what’s to come, and we shouldn’t get too caught up in events that have already happened. We want to be focused on being the best person we can be right now.
We often forget, though, that it’s possible to look at our past with love, not ruminating in it but appreciating it. We’re often so focused on living in the present that we forget to be mindful of where we’ve been and how far we’ve come.
You could say that I’m a bit of a productivity addict. I love doing things that are beneficial to me in some way. I love the feeling of doing something positive or productive for myself, whether it’s squeezing in that extra thirty-minute yoga practice or ten-minute meditation, or listening to podcasts or reading the news instead of watching TV. I get so caught up with being a “better version of me” that I forget to appreciate my current version.
Last week when I was walking to work, listening to lines to practice for an audition, I felt this sense of pride.
I had always wanted to be an actress growing up. It was my dream to be able to transform into a different character and tell a story through film or television. I wasn’t where I wanted to be in my career, but how cool was it that I was actually doing it? I was going to auditions and training with teachers and acting—something that I had dreamed of since I was a kid.
This realization then snowballed into this moment where I looked at my life and said to myself, “Wow, I’ve done all these things and I’m living a life I’ve always wanted.”
I began to list in my mind the things I have accomplished: I moved away from my home city, a place I hated; I’ve traveled to many different countries and even seen the pyramids; I went back to school and pursued a career in the arts; I continue to work toward making my childhood dreams come true…
I realized that I sometimes get so caught up with my big dreams, like being a published author or working actress that I forget to recognize all the little dreams I’ve made come true!
Even writing this I feel a bit embarrassed. A lot of the times it can feel like we’re bragging or that we don’t have a right to be proud of the things we’ve done. Maybe we have this feeling that we shouldn’t be proud of the things we’ve accomplished because we aren’t where we want to be.
But for a daughter of a single mother who moved to Canada as a Vietnamese refugee, I’ve come far, and it’s important to recognize that.
I recently said this out loud to my therapist, but it was different from how it felt in my mind. I had said it to myself with pride, but it didn’t really settle in how big that feeling was, to recognize my own journey and how far I’ve come.
When I said to my therapist, I was also speaking it to my deeper self. I felt it in my soul.
I said it to my younger self—the preteen, bullied girl who rode the train back and forth to avoid school. I said it to my early twenties, addicted self, and I said it to my current self: look at the things you’ve made happen.
When we speak to our deeper selves and feel this connection with our past, this recognition of our journey, it can be groundbreaking. I had never felt that proud of myself, or that impressed with myself before. I cried and felt this amazing gratitude for my life, my own resilience, and most of all, myself.
And again, it can feel so weird to go there, to try to find something to be proud of or to just be proud of where we are. So, how about we do that check-in with ourselves?
How about we look at the past to appreciate it? How about we appreciate our own journeys? Our own resilience? How about we look at the places we’ve been, the relationships we’ve formed, the things we’ve achieved, not with regret or the longing of “if only” or “what ifs” or “I wish I was still there,” but “Wow, I did that? That’s where I used to be? That’s pretty cool.”
We can get so caught up looking at where we should be, where we aren’t, and where others are in comparison that we forget to appreciate where we’ve been and where we’ve come from.
This was the first time it really hit me how big this is, and how important it is to celebrate my progress. I felt like I had a true sense of perspective on life as a whole, from the triumphs to the failures, from obstacles to mistakes to perfect coincidences.
It’s amazing that we’re all living and growing, trying to be the best we can be and moving forward every day. It’s a beautiful thing to be mindful of the present, but don’t forget to honor yourself, your past, and how far you’ve come. Odds are, it’s further than you think.
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How to Start Feeling Confident, Worthy, and “Enough”
“The outer conditions of a person’s life will always be found to reflect their inner beliefs.” ~James Allen
Low self-esteem is like a garden weed. Uproot it while it’s small, or face the consequences of an unruly mess down the road.
Its true, I have gone to extreme lengths to supplement my low self-esteem. Hair colors, tattoos, new hobbies, new jobs, moving in, moving out. I was always waiting for there to be “enough.”
Enough what? Enough things where I could rest, feel satisfied, and be “equal” to everyone else. However, even though I often got what I wanted, the rewards were either brief or nonexistent.
None of the fillers ever provided what I needed, and like a fool I’d move onto the next thing thinking, “Ok, this is really what I need!”
“Your family is supportive, you have enough money, you’re attractive, you’re talented,” a good friend once told me candidly. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’re so insecure.”
It was strange to stop and contemplate what he had said. I’d never thought of myself as the normal person with a complex that didn’t make sense. I’d known others with my problem, but usually their reasons were evident, like demanding parents or school bullies.
“Why on earth am I like this? My life is so bland and…regular,” I thought.
Eventually, after much wasted time, money, objects, friends, and opportunities, I stopped accumulating.
I realized I was never going to reach my long-awaited mecca of “enough” and I had only accumulated junk anyway. The wheels had been spinning, but the car hadn’t gone anywhere.
I noticed that a lot of other people didn’t need anything in particular. It was as if they were “born whole.” The reassurance simply couldn’t come from outside sources or people, because I’d tried that. It did no good.
This led me to the tough truth. Real progress comes from helping yourself and doing what’s hard. Real progress certainly does not come from avoidance and shallow reassurances.
What I had been doing the whole time prior to this discovery was irresponsible.
The problem with a negative self-image is that it feels like a fact. Imagine trying to convince someone that water isn’t really water, it’s soda. Yea. Not gonna get many quick believers on that bandwagon.
Another thing is that maintaining a negative opinion of yourself is extremely easy. A lot of us self-haters are lazy-boned veterans, sitting atop a throne of self-pity. In a sad sense, it’s the only thing we’re sure we know how to do.
However, there are some things you can do to quell this horrible habit.
For one, every time you find yourself hesitating to act because you’re afraid or you don’t believe you are “worthy,” rationalize it.
For example, “My idea is just like everyone else’s at this board meeting. In reality, no one is going to think much about it. Even Bob from accounting gave his input, and his was a bit silly.”
Now I’m not saying to knock others down, but making light of the situation often makes you realize the triviality of the thing you are worrying about.
Another thing that’s important is risk-taking. No, I don’t mean driving backward on the highway is going to heighten your self-esteem. Those are the kind of superficial risks I would take to try to prove something to myself.
But the really difficult and meaningful risks to take are emotional risks.
Letting others in on how you feel, telling someone your fears, or reaching out to an acquaintance you don’t know too well. These are all noble risks, and often people with low self-esteem miss out on the growth opportunities that come with them.
A psychologist once said self-esteem = achievements/expectations. So if you have ten expectations of yourself and you’ve only achieved one of them, your self-esteem won’t be so great.
On the other hand, if you have five and you are achieving all five of them, you’ll likely feel at peace with yourself.
So to simplify, determine what your goals are, and then do them! Make sure they’re attainable and your expectations aren’t extreme.
If you’ve always wanted to be something and you’re not working at it, you’ll never be proud of yourself—because you’re not even being yourself.
Maybe self-help tapes aren’t your cup of tea. And maybe you shudder at the thought of standing in front of your bathroom mirror chanting, “I love myself.” But you really are going to have to do things that are a bit outside of your comfort zone.
Never underestimate the power of waking up and putting on real pants. (I know I used to.) Moping around in pajamas all day is not an option. Think, “What would confident me be doing right now?”
You might feel like you’re faking it at first, but over time, the “real you” and the ideal “confident you” will slowly morph into the same person.
Photo by LadyReddevil
