It’s been quite some time since I last wrote. I was originally going to tell ya’ll that I was just busy with school, and managing other assorted “grown-up” responsibilities. Doesn’t that sound like an understandable reason? Why, yes of course, it does! We’re all busy people. But I can’t honestly say that to you all.
So, why haven’t I really written?
Because, recently, I’ve been in shame.
There’s no nicer way to put it. It is so vital to call this demon for what it is. In the spirit of true honesty, let me just say that even typing the word “shame” made me cringe a little.
I haven’t written because I haven’t felt worthy enough to write. In addition to feeling low about my appearance, I’ve been having doubts about my character, and whether or not I am good enough. Yes, I know its normal. I KNOW that everyone goes through periods of low self-esteem and spiraling self-worth, however that knowledge doesn’t change the feelings; it, in no way, alleviates the excruciating pain that goes along with the unfortunately familiar belief of “I am not ______ enough.”
I haven’t written because I felt unworthy.
“WHO am I to dish out fitness advice or other sorts of lifestyle inspiration, when I can’t even inspire myself to get out of this low “self-worth” rut?”
Oh, my little devious mind wasn’t done. At it’s worst, it screamed: “You’re a fake, doling out inspiration. You can’t even help your own self, and you want to help other people for a living? What is wrong with you? You’re worthless.”
Mind, I’m going to have to disagree with you.
I am not worthless. I am human.
I am imperfect. Sometimes, I feel great about myself and other times I don’t. Sometimes, I love the way I look; other times, I can’t get any more hideous. I can be a very capable and helpful person, but there are also times that I have to ask for help. In terms of this blog, there are periods of time when I’m bursting with inspiration, and other times the biggest miracle can’t seem to inspire me.
And that is okay.
But it certainly doesn’t FEEL okay.
And I think that’s okay too. Feelings don’t always have to be delightful; sometimes, they are downright heartwrenching and overwhelming. Ah. The “great” human experience!
Going through phases like this makes me realize that somewhere along my journey on this earth, I, inaccurately, equated “lovable” with being “perfect.” I don’t know why. I don’t know when. But I do know that this is something I struggle with.
Am I going to be loved, accepted, esteemed, and good enough if I don’t have it “all together?” Am I worthy of love even when I’m a raging lunatic, a mourning miser, or ungrateful narcissist? Am I lovable at my worst?
I think so. But, I don’t feel so. And hence, the incongruency arises within my contradicting human experience.
As I was (and still am) climbing out of the valley of shame, I got to asking myself if the defeating beliefs I have about my own worth apply to my beliefs about the worth of others. Would I be incapable of seeing worth in another human being if she/he was “confused” “ugly” “fat” “dumb” (all the loving characteristics we, so often, associate with ourselves)?
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” bellows a loud voice inside of me. I believe people are worthy because they ARE, not because of who they could be. There is nothing you or anyone could do (or NOT do) that would make me stop believing that you are worthy. I wholeheartedly and fully believe that you have been worthy since the day you were born—forget that! You’ve been worthy since BEFORE you were born.
Why doesn’t this apply to me?
Because I’m the antichrist. Right?
I am the abomination—the isolated black sheep. The universal laws of “worth” don’t apply to me. Hell, I must be an alien. I’m not even sure how the laws of gravity work on me!
Other people can afford to be “fat” or “ugly”, have acne, not get all A’s etc. Other people can afford to NOT have it all together. Why? Because they are actually GOOD ENOUGH on the inside.
What’s inside of me? It must be a morbid black hole that sucks out all happiness, joy, love, rainbows, puppies, and mermaids. God forbid I feel “fat” or “ugly” or ugh—even worse–fail a test. I, simply, cannot afford that, because there is absolutely nothing to make up for it on the “inside.” I am “worthless” on the inside. As a result , I have to micromanage the outside because that is the ONLY WAY I may have a SHOT at being loved, accepted, and nurtured.
So I may (or may not have) exaggerated a little bit. Though we may KNOW that the preceding things are not true, the feelings we have about ourselves certainly don’t match up! And it’s downright FRUSTRATING.
All hyperboles aside, what is the truth? What is the reality?
The truth is that I am not an alien. Neither are you.
However, shame can be extremely ALIENating. If we listen to our shouting “shame voice”, we are likely to HIDE away. We go into isolation– trying to pick, prod, calculate, measure our flaws, in an attempt to “fix” them before we start interacting with others. That’s the only way we will ever be accepted, right?
Wrong.
–Sigh-
Secrecy and hiding are the birthparents of shame. Sure, we may be accepted when we’ve temporarily “concealed” whatever it is we are ashamed of. But, chances are that we will be more WHOLLY and TRULY accepted if we shared our shame with one another. We are all invested in hiding our flaws—our perceived weaknesses. Some of us are more invested than others, but we are all in the SHAME boat.
And that shame boat is going to SINK because of all the “secret” shame that is piled up on it. You may feel ashamed for different reasons than me, but I can PROMISE you that we both feel crippled when the feeling of “not good enough” strikes yet again.
Let’s take away shame’s power. If we take away secrecy, shame cannot thrive. We all need to start TALKING about it; that is the only way we can stay afloat.
So here I am, taking the first step to let all of you in. I don’t have it “all together”. I am exposed and vulnerable to the core when I say this: I HAVE BEEN GOING THROUGH A REALLY SH*T PERIOD OF SELF WORTH. And I am just now, SLOWLY, starting to climb out of it.
I haven’t been too fond of myself lately—not the way I look, not the way I am, not the way I do things.
But after sharing this with all of you, I feel more okay. I feel okay with not feeling okay. I feel okay with being imperfect, and most of all, I feel okay with being a fallible little human.
After all, I’m no alien.
❤
abidmaham 
