lazy self esteem
In a recent virtual session with my therapist, I mentioned that my self-esteem had been low. When I’m spiraling, usually at work, my head repeats ugly things and I believe them. She wants to explore why calling myself a fat piece of shit has remained a cornerstone of comfortable negativity for me.
During the pandemic, I’ve noticed the dramatization of bingo cards to what debauchery has happened in the world that year. If I believed in this bingo card came, a late addition to mine came in the form of the lyrics to The Offspring’s 1994 hit, “Self Esteem.”
The more you suffer
The more it shows you really care, right? Yeah.
After our session, I went for a walk and played this song. Overwhelmed by the emotional ground we had just covered, I had a breakthrough. We had just begun discussing codependency and how confusing the term was. As soon as I heard the angst-filled lyrics, I felt them. I remembered weak knees and stomach aches and pulling over into a Dairy Queen parking lot to stop myself from crying. Because I had to suffer, to show how much I cared.
But seriously. How could I be a fiercely independent woman and unknowingly participate in codependent behavior at the same time?
According to the Mental Health America website, some characteristics of co-dependent people are:
A sense of guilt when asserting themselves
Difficulty identifying feelings
Rigidity/difficulty adjusting to change
Problems with intimacy/boundaries
Chronic anger
Poor communications
Difficulty making decisions
Also from the same website, questions from the questionnaire to identify signs of co-dependency:
Do you keep quiet to avoid arguments? Yes. I’ve never fought with a lover.
Are the opinions of others more important than your own? Yes. Men are always right. I’m probably wrong. I don’t remember when exactly I engrained this into my mind.
Are you uncomfortable expressing your true feelings to others? All the time.
Do you feel like a “bad person” when you make a mistake? Yes. See above.
Do you have difficulty taking compliments? Yes.
Do you have trouble asking for help? LOL
Near the end of our session, my therapist said my name. Her tone was serious, heavy. For whatever reason, she told me I carried a lot of weight. Invisible weight, perhaps belonging to someone else. I nodded over our virtual session and picked at the dead skin surrounding my fingernails. As the dust of skin collected on my black athleisure pants I rubbed my hands across the top of my thighs as the tiny pieces fell to the hardwood floor.
My self-awareness cataloged this ambivalence a long time ago, a singular boyfriend pointing out 10 or 11 years ago that I must have been mistreated. I was shocked at his attention to detail when I wanted my feelings and past emotional wounds to remain hidden from view.
I must admit, my feet were halfway in and halfway out of grad school. Something was holding me back, preventing me from fully committing to my writing. This elusive Something the reason why I have trouble taking myself seriously as a Professional anything. When I tried to say that I was a lazy student, listing the ways I felt I failed as an MFA candidate, my therapist said she doesn’t believe in “lazy.” Would I have applied to grad school if I was lazy? Or was it, perhaps, a matter of being afraid of committing to something risky?
What would happen if I let myself commit to writing? What would happen if I disengaged from the tyrannical voices in my head telling me what I am not?
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