I was one of those ballsy kids who spoke her mind, believed that anything was possible, and thought she knew the answers to everything.
For example, in 4th grade, when our teacher asked what we wanted to be when we grew up, my classmates said they wanted to be pilots, astronauts, doctors, rock stars—the usual stuff. I told everyone, “I’m going to be President of the United States.”
They really got a knee slapper out of it, but I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by their ridicule. “What?” I asked. “What’s so funny?” Someone said, “Girls can’t be President!”
I replied, “Yes, they can, and I’m going to be the first one. I will prove you wrong.”
I no longer aspire to be President. Anyone—man or woman—who wants that job must only have one oar in the water is what I think. Still, something changed between 4th and 7th grade. I’m at a loss to tell you precisely when it happened or why. All I can say is that the bottom of my self-esteem dropped out.
I Was the Dorkiest Kid in School!
By 7th grade I not only no longer wanted to be President, I also firmly believed that I couldn’t. Indeed, I thought I would be eternally lucky if the U.S. Postal Service would allow me to deliver other people’s mail. I also thought I was the ugliest, dorkiest, most socially inept girl in my class. My arm hair was too bushy, my brows were in dire need of professional help, and I had a really bad perm. School was torture, and not the kind that builds character.
In college, I lived in constant fear of being weeded out and of failing out.
Later, as a newspaper reporter, I told my therapist that I was “the worst newspaper reporter in the world” and that my sources “all hated me.”
In marriage I failed to hold my husband accountable for his actions or inactions. After all, I thought, if I were really worth his love, he would automatically treat me like a princess. If he didn’t treat me like a princess, I must not be good enough to deserve that kind of treatment.
When my daughter was born, I blamed myself for not being able to get her to sleep through the night, for not having enough breast milk, and for not knowing how to entertain her. I was a terrible, terrible mother, I thought. The good mothers had energy. The good mothers knew how to soothe their cranky babies. The good mothers could get through the grocery store with an infant or toddler without feeling stressed out.
And so it went.
Or Was I?
It wasn’t until recently, when a few of my former newspaper colleagues read my blog and got back in touch that I realized my perceptions of myself differed vastly from others’ perceptions of me.
Had I really been the worst newspaper reporter in the world? My former colleagues begged to differ.
“I had no idea you loathed life at the paper, or that it was such a tough time for you,” wrote one colleague. “I remember you did a really good job and were fun to be around. Sounds like you still are.”
Wrote another, “I didn’t realize you had such a concern about being a daily newspaper writer. You were really extraordinary as a reporter and a writer. And, more than that, I thought you were an extraordinary person.”
Were they remembering the right me?
I thought back over my life. I thought about 7th grade. Had I really been the dorkiest kid in the school? SOMEONE had to be just a shade dorkier, right? It’s quite true that my arm hair was (and still is) too bushy and that my brows were (and still are) are in constant need of professional help. I also really did have a really bad perm.
But it’s also true that, around that time in my life, the daughter of a family friend told Mom, “Alisa is so pretty and so popular. I wish I could be just like her.” Why had I chosen to ignore that comment?
I thought about my college days, about how I’d lived in constant fear of failing out. This was despite the fact that I’d carried a near 4.0 GPA during most of my time there. I’d graduated with honors and was accepted into Phi Beta Kappa.
I thought about motherhood, about how my daughter’s preschool teachers often tell me how well behaved, smart, and funny she is. I thought about how happy she seems most of the time. Surely I have not failed at motherhood.
I’m Good Enough, Smart Enough…
I also realized that it wasn’t until I believed in my own worthiness that I was able to demand what I both wanted and needed from my marriage, and it wasn’t until I required responsibility from my husband that he grew up and became responsible. That he hadn’t treated me like a princess had nothing to do with my worth. He’d failed to treat me a certain way because I’d let him.
It also wasn’t until I believed in myself that I was able to take risks in my career. And it wasn’t until I believed in myself that others started believing in me.
This sense of self worth had to come from the inside. It had to come from me. And, you know what? I may have bushy arms and unruly eyebrows. I may need a nap in the afternoon. I may not be able to write one killer blog after another. If these things were not true, I’d be a Super.
I may also again experience a crisis of confidence (or two or three or ten or a ten billion). I may feel scared. I may feel weak. I may—many, many times—hear that little voice that tells me, “You are not good enough.”
But I am good enough. I know that now.
That doubting voice, that fear, and that sense of weakness are not indications of my worth or my ability. They are indications of my normalcy. It’s normal to feel afraid when faced with change, when presented with the unknown, or when trying to improve one’s life, but as long as I continually talk back to that, “You are not good enough,” voice by reminding myself that I am not just good enough, I am worth it—so so worth it–the more I will believe that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to, even becoming President of the United States, assuming I didn’t have both oars in the water.
TODAY’S PROJECT POINTERS
* Think back over your life to times when you felt unsure of yourself. Was your view of yourself accurate, or were you really stronger, better, smarter and sexier than you ever thought possible?
* Find something positive to say about yourself in the following areas of your life: your relationship with your spouse or significant other, your parenting abilities (if you have kids), your career, your friendships, and your ability to accomplish your dreams.
* Cultivate the rarest of friends, that person who not only unfailingly compliments you for everything you do right, but also who helps you find and address your weaknesses. A compliment from such a friend can be the boost you need to Just Do It when every part of your being says, “I can’t.”
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Oh, Alisa, I soooooooooo needed this TODAY! Thank you for this great reminder and inspirational, yes I AM normal, post! You are awesome and thanks for the encouragement!
Many Blessings Always,
-Sarah Liz