Deborah G () creates a meme asking, “What do you like about yourself?” I fail miserably with lame stuff. But I think it might be uplifting for some of y’all to think on these things.
The “I LIKE Myself” meme. I want three statements, made by you about yourself, that are things that show that you like yourself.
We’re all so fast to dump on ourselves, carry a load of uberdown, and it seems that everything from God to the media wants you to not announce what’s good about you.
I hereby declare an offday for that crap.
What are three things that are cool about you? No qualifications, no scuffing toes and saying awww I couldn’t possibly say good things about myself, no ducking and trying to be “modest”. This is about self-like.
Post your feel-goods in the comments here or over at her journal, if you prefer.
I replied to the meme, but I’m no good at this kind of thing. Other people have great stuff like “I am loyal” or “if I have something and you need it, it’s yours” or “I work towards the common good.” I’m not a good person (as you already know), so I can’t say stuff like that. I could only come up with three lame-o “good” things.
I was going to do this meme because I’ve let the rejections of everyone in publishing erode all my self-confidence and self-esteem, and I need *some* reason to think I should still be taking up room on the planet . . . but I really couldn’t think of anything not lame, because I hate myself. This was reinforced last night by the opinions of my family members . . . who agree: I am crap! But I’ll give it a shot, from whichever quarter of “me” (whatever that is) remains that still wishes it could be worthy.
1. I can spell. If it’s an English or French word, if you pronounce it properly, I can give you at least one or two possible spellings and then make an educated guess as to which one is correct. I’m usually right. If you add in etymology (that is, if you can tell me whether it comes from Latin or the romance languages or is taken from another source, for example), I get even closer.
I’m good with a clever turn of phrase, too, but that usually works against me. No one “gets” or likes literary allusions any more, so THAT always works against me.
2. I can play the piano by ear. If I hear a pop/show tunes song a couple of times, I can play it, hands together, in an arrangement that will come close to what you heard on the radio. Of course I can’t do that with Mozart piano concerti, as there are “too many notes” *grin* and you can get lost too easily, but with the typical hymn, pop song, show tune, or other piece that gets played on popular TV or radio, I can play it on the piano. (Assuming it’s a piece that lends itself to the piano. Heavy metal guitar or rap songs don’t usually lend themselves.)
3. I know my own limitations. If I can’t do something, I don’t claim that I can. If I don’t know something, I can make an educated guess and/or go out and try to find out, but I don’t just shoot off a line of bull the way a lot of people do in order to cover up their fear of being “found out.” This is, however, one of the parts of me that feeds into the feeling of unworthiness and being found wanting. I can’t just say, “But I’m great anyway,” the way most kids brought up under the Good Self-Esteem flag can. I was brought up under the “I brought you into this world and by God I can take you out and make another just like you” flag, and under that flag you had to prove you were worthy of being loved, admired, and/or praised by actually producing something that pleased the authority figures. I suppose that shapes a person, to some extent.
I can also do math, but nobody cares about that. (grin) Because I hate APPLIED math. I just like math-math that doesn’t have any use except to look at because it’s purty.
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The reason I’m up at four AM is that the dog barked to go potty (after wetting the new sheets anyway) and then Hubby’s cell phone rang with the alarming news that the Dallas switch for his telecom company* is hard-down–crashed with a hardware problem. He’s trying to sort it out by phone, but will probably end up going on in to work. Which leaves me with no way to get to physical therapy at 8 in the morning unless I drive myself. I think I *could* do that, though. What the hell.
* The telecom company for which he works. We only wish it were HIS telecom company.