Different, Weird, Strange, Whatever. . .

I struggle, as I’m sure you’ve noticed if you’re a DDT reader of some length, with my self-image. My self-image has plagued me from childhood. I have always seen myself as “different” and not in a good way, not in the way that something (or someone) unique might be prized or at least valued, but in a way that is flawed, something not quite right. As much as I wanted to believe as a child that I was “okay” or “normal” I knew better. I got the messages and took them to heart.

A few things people said to me (things said not just once, not by just one person, but things I heard repeatedly from varied sources) during childhood that stuck and became permanent fixtures in my self-image:

What was said: “What an unusual name! How do you pronounce that again?”
What I heard: You aren’t like the rest of us. You have a name nobody can spell or pronounce correctly. You’re different.

What was said: “Oh, you’re left-handed! That must make your life difficult.”
What I heard: It isn’t as good to be left-handed as right-handed. Something is wrong with you.

What was said: “How come you can’t [insert choice here: skate, run fast, swim, turn cartwheels, hit the ball]?”
What I heard: You’re a klutz and not as good as the rest of us who can do these things.

What was said: “You have such a pretty face. You’d be beautiful if you lost weight.”
What I heard: You are fat, and because of that you are ugly.

The image that I carry around with myself, but am trying to shed for myself, is the following:
Fat (therefore unlovable), clumsy (therefore unlovable), different (therefore unlovable), and with a weirdass name thrown in for good measure so that either I, the person mispronouncing it, or both of us can be embarrassed by it.

I fight against this self-image every single day of my life. I try to get over it. Some days I do better than others. Today I found myself wallowing in it, and rather than let it get to me I decided to write about it. Writing about it, and reading it back, gives me the ability to look at it in perspective and see the absurdity of it. It helps me identify the negative self-talk so that I can work to replace it with positive self-talk.

Here’s the image that I am striving to believe about myself (some days I almost do too!):
The physical body is just packaging, and I am lovable no matter my size or shape because of who I am on the inside. What I don’t have in physical coordination is more than made for by the things I do have going for me: an intellectual brain, a giving heart, a passion for cooking and baking. I don’t have to be good at sports because I have many other talents. Being left-handed is okay, and those who feel it necessary to comment on are the ones with the problem. I do just fine being left-handed, using scissors just like everyone else’s without any problem at all. My name is not who I am. A weird difficult name does not mean that I am weird and difficult.

Okay, that last paragraph was hard. You know why? Because deep down inside somewhere I just don’t believe it. I just don’t. Deep down I believe that I will never be thin enough, or athletic enough, or right-handed enough (I try to do as much right-handed as I possibly can) to be anything but the strange person described by the strange name attached to me.

This is the fight over self-image that plays in my mind almost constantly. Sometimes I am more aware of it than others, but it’s always there in the back of my mind at some level. All it takes to bring it to the forefront of my thoughts is just one little comment.

If you take any message away from this please let it be this:
Be careful what you say to others. They just may believe you.