The more I thought about this strength, the greater my envy grew. I've always wanted to earn self esteem but I've thrown down so many obstacles in my path that I'd have to be an Amazon to hurdle them. Of course many psychiatrists have told me that people don't have to "earn" self esteem--it's part of the package of being human. You get free will, usually a fairly healthy body and a brain that respects your abilities and accepts your defects.
I must have gotten onto the wrong line when "esteem packages" were being handed out since ever since I was a kid, I've lacked confidence. I remember when my favorite expression was "I've got so many problems, even my problems have problems." It really isn't funny in any sense of the word, but I do recall that my sister got a big rush out of it. I guess this was part of her OCS (only child syndrome). Never give an inch to the other guy, even if she's your one and only sister.
Have you ever been lucky enough to have one person in your life you can count on to bolster your self esteem? Well, until my husband came along, I had no one. Mom tried a bit, but her gestures were feeble at best. Once I remember her saying, "Your sister is pretty, but you're attractive." Obviously that maternal evaluation was supposed to pump me up, but somehow it didn't. "Attractive" (if she really meant even that) seemed the ugly step sister to Cinderella's "pretty."
Meanwhile my father recused himself from the case--there was no help there except when I'd overhear him bragging to others about me. When it suited him and he needed something to inflate his ego, he did defer to his daughters. As a dentist, he practiced in a wing added onto our old colonial home. Sometimes if I were sitting nearby (in the kitchen, which led to the dental wing), I'd hear a few positives about myself: that I was a teacher, that I had married well, etc. Somehow, though, it was hard to believe his brags since I felt they were conveniences rather than praise. He needed me to be a five-star daughter, but since I lacked the necessary components, he would play pretend. At least that's how it came across to me.
Basing my self esteem exclusively on family and teachers (grades) was my downfall; it also was a habit that I still find hard to break. I'm always looking for compliments but when I receive them, I often don't believe them. Editors are notoriously stingy about positives and they don't give you grades like in school. I sometimes wish that life graded you on a daily basis because then I might have a fighting chance for self esteem. For me, the grading system helped buffer the zero credits I received from family members.
But enough whining! I still have many other memoirs to read, and with any luck, I'll download one that matches me to a T. Misery loves company--it's a cliche I both hate and love. But my options are few: I don't think I'm going to win a Nobel Prize for Literature, I'm definitely not going to qualify for membership in Mensa (the high-IQ club), and the universe has made it eminently clear to me that emotional intelligence trumps IQ every time.
So unless I win the lottery or hear from David Sedaris or some other celeb that The Dysfunctional Family is the best thing since sliced bread, I probably will have to bear the discomfort of perusing certain memoirs that hurt like hell!
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