How I Overcome Shame & Self-Loathing When Everyone Else Lives Self-Love
And my vengeful black heart finally stopped its agitated beating
February was the time of the year when my self-loathing would peak. Many of us may have some sorrowful memory of Valentine’s Day. Maybe there are those with worse memories than mine. I don’t know. But I did find myself wishing every year that the ground would split open & swallow me whole.
Now that I think of it, I used to hate being part of any celebration. So much so that I was unable to enjoy my wedding celebrations.
Popular celebrity weddings are a time for me to reminisce my self-loathing past.
(Inside Sidharth Malhotra, Kiara Advani’s wedding reception. Couple dances to Kala Chashma — India Today). What amazes me at each of these weddings is how the bride & groom revel being at the center of it all.
All I can recall from my wedding a decade ago is me wishing the day would be over. To say my self-image had taken a beating in my younger days wouldn’t be appropriate. I don’t think I had any sense of self at all. So, it felt awkward to get the attention reserved for the bride. It was even more awkward to be popular target of a photographer’s lens & a priest’s ministrations.
Yes, I know.
A normal girl enjoys attention.
She especially craves it from her teenage years to her early thirties. She loves wearing pretty clothes & being attractive. She also loves those in love & loves the idea of being in love herself. I have never liked any of these. Not because I claimed to be different or exclusive. But because I thought of myself as too common.
One can live with anything but it is difficult to live without a defined sense of self. And a feeling that you are an afterthought in a Universe that sees no place for your dented sense of being.
I was afflicted by the (I wish not so) common aliment called self-loathing.
Self-love is a fashionable term these days, so you can imagine how much it rankled for one who had nothing but dislike for herself.
I have history. Anxiety, depression & self-loathing had made their homes in my birth family, along with extreme & very alienating poverty. Nestled among them I learnt early that I should not have a defined sense of self. To love myself for what I am is to love someone undeserving, common place & flawed.
I learnt early on to find flaws in my physical being.
When I would look in the mirror I would see an ugly face. By the time I was thirteen I had stopped looking into mirrors. I had even stopped looking people in the eye when I spoke to them. I consciously avoided social gatherings especially birthdays. Because at every birthday the birthday girl or boy was made to feel special, showered with gifts & love. It made me feel worse about myself. My birthdays were sorry affairs of stale cake on a broken table surrounded by me & my unhappy parents. I had stopped inviting friends to celebrate after I turned nine.
I think we even stopped having birthday cake after a while.
Needless to say, I had no romantic attachments. I had many crushes; one boy after the other. The only thing they had in common was that they were all unattainable. When one is not able to find acceptance within oneself, one typically looks for it from others, especially from those who one has placed on a pedestal. I wasn’t looking for love, I was looking for validation. I feel a bit embarrassed to admit that I chased after all those boys. And they all ran away scared of this apparition like ugly little girl who wouldn’t leave them alone!
Not a single boy did I manage to get.
I systematically chased them all away, not before they made me feel small (smaller than I felt even) in mean boyish fashion. Every one of them trampled on my heart at the height of my chasing, leaving me in tears.
Valentine’s day every year was a misery. I knew no Valentine would arrive but I continued to live with hope. It was also the time my heart would usually be crushed because I would see the object of my affection with another lady.
Much later when I realised why I became who I became it is ironic that the man who helped me become more compassionate & accepting of myself became a father figure, not a prized after lover.
I met the real me after forty years of living in the wilderness, trying to become many people so I would be accepted by that many people. I realised I had based my life on anxiety, people pleasing & self-loathing. I had lived a lie.
Now I have started to look into mirrors more often.
What do I see where I earlier saw only self-loathing?
A not bad (at all) looking woman who can easily pass off as a thirty something. To atone for the times I’ve hidden myself in crowds I now celebrate every occasion with the fanfare it deserves. I realised I do not have terrible genes when I gave birth to my son. Now two years old his good looks could put cupid to shame.
And oh, the icing on the cake for my vengeful black heart! Some of the boys who rejected me have become pot-bellied men who don’t seem as sure of themselves anymore 😉.
The idea of being romantically wanted doesn’t seem so appealing anymore.
This is what life feels like after I dropped the cloak of self-loathing:
I marked 4 decades of my life
With 4 different ‘best friends’
Now I decide to meet aloneness to see how it feels
The coat never fit so snug or so warm
Nor did I ever know that face in the mirror
As warmly as I embrace her now.
