“Many burglars and murderers feel great about themselves. Yet many upstanding citizens whom a jury of sages would declare kind, wonderful, and worthy hate themselves.”
Now, I promise you that I don’t fall into the former category with the burglars and murderers but you would think that I killed someone with the way that I feel about who I am. Awkward since I don’t even really feel as great about Cheyenne as psycho or sociopaths might about themselves. Then again, I could be wrong. I am wrong. Over the last decade, I’ve committed a mass murder. I’ve crushed every positive, sweet, and loving thought about “Cheyenne” and allowed every insecurity, insult, or negative thought to slip through a defense that should have held it’s ground. You had one job, self-confidence, one job!
But.. Why do we beat ourselves up over what we see in the mirror? The disembodied voice we hear when we speak? Why do we constantly criticize our actions, words, thoughts, and sometimes our very existence.. Better yet, why do I do these things to myself?
It’s almost too simple of an answer to fathom.
We are raised by a society that forces us to question every aspect of our lives. Think about it.. We are raised in a society where no one is ever good enough to be “the best” yet we sit on social media competing with each other over the most random and trivial things.. Best clothes, shoes, best hair style, longest hair, nail art, prettiest tans, prettiest bikini, BEST BIKINI BODY. You’re fit but are you as fit as the personal trainer that lost 15 lbs in just one week using this product?
I JUST WANT TO SCREAM. With a society that makes us question our every personal choice, how do you expect not to have some type of esteem issues? Whether high self-esteem or low-self esteem social media has made us narcissistic and obsessive.. And this is where the problem lies..
I have become so obsessive over every detail of who I am and over every grueling detail of my body that I am drowning in a sea of selfish lies that I’ve thrown myself into by declining the idea that I am enough. Instead I chanted mantras of self hatred that haunt me every day with the echoes that follow each attempt to tell myself that I am just as beautiful as she is. That I am just as smart as he is. Just as strong as they are. Just as loving as the next person.
So here I am. Repeating to myself that the weird thing about self-esteem is how little connection it bears to reality. Because what you see in the mirror and the disembodied voice that you hear when you speak is distorted and twisted in comparison to the beautiful, sweet, and phenomenal human being that other people find you to be.
Maybe this is step one: Understanding that your self-esteem bears little connection to reality.
Which means.. I am enough.