WARNING: This may begin as a glass-half-empty story, but by the end it becomes more full, I promise! It's worth sticking around to read the whole thing! If you don't have the time or patience for that, skip to the second line break (the one after the following one).
I was recently told by someone (whose opinion I really value) that I was 'too hard on myself'. A few days later, one of the most honest and trustworthy adults I know told me that 'you're not as confident as I'd like to see you be'. There was definitely a pattern happening here. It surprised me, but after thinking about it for a while, I realised they were right.
I've been watching the Oscars tonight, and seeing all those people making speeches, posing for photos, and standing on stage singing/talking/hoping people laugh. I was thinking 'wow, those people are so brave!' Even though they act for a living and have millions of people watch them, they never SEE thousands of people staring at them from the audience, like in the theatre in which the Oscars are given out.
At my high school graduation ceremony, I was terrified to even walk across a stage to collect my diploma, and later my volunteering award, let alone say anything. The audience there was filled with my family, my friends' families, and my teachers. They were all cheering, or falling asleep. But I was still afraid of somehow screwing up and being judged. I'm sure at least half the audience (the women) would have understood if I tripped in my 3-inch heels, and my classmates - who know me well enough to know how clumsy I am - would have not been shocked if I fell on the stairs. And the ceremony was so long, with so many memorable moments, that nobody would have remembered a wipeout by the next day. By the end, I didn't fall, or mess up anything. But that's just one example of my lack of confidence.
It's a rare moment that I'm talking to someone, even my family or one of my best friends, and I don't think 'geez that sounds lame' the moment I say anything. If they laugh, I immediately feel better (as long as I was making a joke on purpose...) but otherwise, I tend to mutter on about what I was trying to say, then go 'nevermind' and avoid eye contact until someone changes the subject.
While I realise this may sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself, that's not my intention. In fact, I always reread anything I post on my blog or facebook, hoping that nobody will think it's stupid.
Sure, I can dance around and talk to myself in the mirror, but if anyone else comes home, I clam up. I can plan out every sentence in an important conversation I need to have with someone, but then when the time comes, I wimp out and play it safe.
I love singing. I love music and I love joining myself to the music by singing along with it (or in harmony to it). I still can't work up the courage to sing for an audience. Even when I'm in the car, singing quietly with loud music and 4 other people singing over me, I'm deathly afraid of someone hearing me. As a result, I sing quietly and shakily, and my voice sounds like crap.
I think part of my self-esteem problem comes from fear of disappointing my parents. Ever since I was little and brought home my first art project, I've always wanted them to be proud of me. And for the most part they are. But there's still a tiny voice in the back of my head (which sounds suspiciously like my mom) saying 'be careful, you don't want to mess this up'. However, this fear, which has to do with my family, should really have nothing to do with my everyday life at school or work.
Another thing which made me incredibly self-conscious was the fact that I got picked on a lot through elementary school. Though this would make a really important (and lengthy) blog topic for another time, I would like to touch on it now. I began elementary school somewhat shy but excited and eager to learn and make new friends. When I was picked on, I think it crushed my spirit. I always knew the answer in class, but never raised my hand, for fear I would say the wrong thing, and be laughed at. I always watched my feet when I was walking, because I didn't want to trip and embarrass myself. Every child dreads being humiliated, but for me it was twofold - the initial embarrassment, and then the subsequent teasing (which would provoke tears, which in turn would provoke more teasing... Etc, ad nauseum). It's a vicious cycle. And it's a key reason that I second-guess every word I say, every idea that enters my head. I think; 'Is there some way that someone could possibly ridicule what I am about to say, or what I just thought - if I were to share that thought with them?' And if I somehow mess up my delivery of a well-thought-out, perfectly-worded line? It's back to the mumbling and staring at my feet.
I also can't stand it if someone criticises my opinion of something - or hates something I really love. I know it's a difference of opinion, blah blah, but for example the other day a close friend of mine was making fun of a band I have loved since I was about ten, and I still love to this day. I think their music has perfectly expressed so many feelings I could never express myself, and the individual people in that band seem so incredibly genuine that I'm proud to say I like them. But then when she said they were whiny and emo and stupid, I second-guessed myself and felt sad about everything I had thought about them and their music. Even though her opinion would never change the way I felt about them, it took away a little of my enjoyment, because I felt guilty for liking something so 'whiny and overdramatic'. I know it's stupid, but it hurt.
I actually don't know why I'm writing this. I think it makes me sound needy and whiny - but that, right there, is a prime example of this whole problem. I'm writing this because I think - no, scratch that, I know - that everyone out there has something they're self-conscious about. Usually this has to do with appearance (certainly with girls) or level of intelligence. I want to admit that I have problems in these areas, too, especially my appearance. There are some days I think 'Wow, my hair looks nice and I didn't even put any effort into it!' And there are some days I avoid looking at a mirror because my face is randomly red or my hair is a mess. (And for those of you who don't know me, I have insanely thick, wavy hair so it's fairly easy to mess up! Humidity is not my friend!)
But I also want to point out that I don't sit around all day thinking about how much I suck. In fact, I like being left my own company because while I am my biggest critic, I am also my own biggest fan. I point out (to myself) when I look good, even if nobody else does. I mentally high-five myself when I have a good idea. I'm the one who deadpanned that the reason I don't have a boyfriend is that 'none of the guys I know have good taste in girls'. And I know one person who will always laugh at my jokes - me!
And over the past few weeks, I've come to realise just how close I am with certain people, and really treasure the fact that I know them. Everyone should find incredible friends like these ones. They surprise me every day with just how supportive they are, and it's not like I'm constantly fishing for compliments (because that would be needy), but when they give me a really sincere one I come pretty close to tearing up because it's so sweet of them to appreciate me.
I have certain things about myself that I genuinely can't stand (my poor self-esteem, ironically, being one of them), and I have things about me that I love. I've learned to try to work on the negative things, and treasure and always remember the positive ones. I also have things about me that aren't the greatest, but I can't really change them, so I have learned to poke fun at them without letting them bother me. My height is a good example of this. It used to bother me when people pointed it out or made fun of it - then I began telling them that, given my genetics, I'm lucky to be as tall as I am! (that's 5 feet, 2 and 3/4 of an inch, for anyone wondering. And yes, that 3/4 is a huge accomplishment, you have no idea haha)
It's a good idea to have a sense of humour about oneself (I actually make jokes about my sense of humour... because I find everything funny!) because without it, either you take your negative attributes too seriously, and hate yourself, which is not good, or you are overly serious about all your positive attributes and become incredibly conceited and full of yourself, which is terribly annoying to be around! So laugh at the silly things you don't like, and call yourself awesome, and mean it! Positivity breeds positivity, so feeling great about yourself will make people feel great about you, and if you share with others the reasons you find them awesome, they'll feel great about themselves.
Oddly enough, this blog, in and of itself, has helped my confidence a great amount. When I first started posting, I was worried it would be met with criticism. But I actually have gotten a lot of positive reinforcement about it. And I really do enjoy writing. And I want to thank my amazing friends who inspired this post, those who boost my ego every day whether they know it or not. I love you guys more than I can possibly express.
If you have anything positive to share about this post, or about how you think of yourself, please post it below! If you have anything negative to say about me or yourself, kindly write it down on a piece of paper, rip it up, then flush it down the toilet. Because there is too much negativity in the world (especially the virtual one) for you to add to it. The sewer is already full of terrible things, so it won't mind one more little one.
If you think negative things about me, I don't really care anymore. Nobody forced you to read this.
If you think negative things about yourself, please remember that there are people out there who love you. Go find one and give them a hug. I love you all just for reading this!
Good night, dear readers. Please leave me a comment so I know you're not just Russian spyware pretending to click on my link :)
Sunday 26 February 2012
Sunday 5 February 2012
On Grief
In my lifetime, I have experienced the deaths of four loved ones. My mother's great-aunt died when I was 10, my grandma (on my dad's side) passed away when I was 12, and my great-grandma (on my mom's side) followed when I was 16. Last week, my aunt died, and unlike all the other times, this time I was absolutely shocked.
My great-aunt and great-grandma were both in their nineties when they died, and they had been very sick for quite a while. My grandma was nearly seventy, and her health was in decline for several months before her death. My aunt was fifty-nine and we had less than a week of warning before she died.
My dad has a large family - five sisters, two brothers and him. His parents are both dead (his father passed away before I was born), and the siblings are scattered all over the province - one even lives in Alberta. Despite that, it's a very close-knit family, with eight grandkids (only 4 of the siblings are actually married). Save for the ones in Alberta, we all visit at New Year's, Easter, Mother's Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas; even the Albertians fly in during the summer for a 'family reunion'.
Because of this, I last saw my aunt at Christmas, right before she left for her snowbird condo in Florida. At Christmas she was kind of thin and tired, but our whole family always naps at Christmas, (sometime between the gifts and the turkey) so I didn't think anything of it.
Then, about two weeks ago, my mom told us all at dinner that she 'needed to talk to us'. Now, I just know that anytime my mom says anything in that ominous a tone, that something bad is happening. She tells us my aunt is sick in Florida. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but it's clearly something bad. When I hear 'sick', I think having a cold or a fever or something. People don't call their relatives back home to inform them about something like that. And people definitely don't tell their sick relatives that they should fly back to Canada over something like that. Apparently the day after that, her sister flew down to help her pack up - and she had collapsed. I was really confused, hearing everything fifth-hand didn't help, but I still didn't know what 'sick' meant, it's a terribly vague word. I found out later that she had had surgery over the summer to remove a benign cyst from her stomch, and that once she fell it caused internal bleeding/she fell because of the internal bleeding? So of course, they rushed her to the ER and she was placed in the ICU and we found out on Thursday that she was having organ failure, and they didn't expect her to last the night. So I had some warning, but not much. And on top of that, I had an exam the next day, and another incredibly stressful one the following Tuesday. She died Friday, around noon, after my exam, but my dad didn't tell me until around five o'clock (coincidentally, right before I was about to leave for work). I went to work in shock. It didn't go terribly well, but that's a story I probably should keep to myself...
Funerals have always made me uncomfortable - especially when there's an open casket. Those freak me out so much, I never go near them. When my great-aunt died, I was pretty young, so I just stood with my cousin the whole time and talked quietly. At my grandma's visitations, I felt really sad but couldn't bring myself to cry, even though everyone else was. I pretty much sat in a corner by myself, ignoring and being ignored by everyone. I remember my sisters were playing and acting like everything was fine, and I remember being irritated with them for that. Looking back now, I realize they were only about 7 at the time, so they didn't have much of a grasp on what was happening. But at the time, it really bothered me; it almost seemed as though they were being insensitive or something. The next day, at the actual funeral, I was sobbing uncontrollably the entire time and couldn't make myself stop. Strange, given how dry my eyes had been the day prior, but I suppose it had finally hit me - I hadn't cried since a brief moment the day I found out about her dying.
My great-grandma's funeral was much the same as my great-aunt's had been six years earlier. There were no visitations beforehand, but I stell felt terribly awkward. To put it in perspective, I had been born when she was eighty-two, and while she was very healthy for someone her age (until the last few months), her memory was steadily growing worse through all my memories of her. She was a nice lady, and always listened with great interest whenever I told her something, but eventually she got to a point where she couldn't remember which of her 5 great-granddaughters I was, or pretty much anything anyone told her. She would try to tell us a story from her childhood, and then get into a debate with my grandma (her daughter) about the accuracy of the details. My mom and grandma were both crying at the funeral, but I never did. I think it was because they had better memories of her than I did.
My aunt's death was different. I didn't cry too much (except for a bit at work that first night) at the funeral; it came and went in bursts of tears, but it seemed I cried a lot less than my aunts or any of my cousins. I wrote my exam on schedule, and went to work (which I now regret). My sisters were pretty much indifferent - again, I felt irritation towards them, but again, I wondered why I wasn't more upset.
My aunt was a fascinating person. She played golf almost religiously, loved Broadway shows and cared more about her family than anyone else. She was full of jokes and hugs, but if someone stepped out of line, she didn't hesitate to tell them so (which sometimes pissed my sisters off). She was more a fan of plants than animals, and never married, but had a busy social life.
For a few years, between the time I was ten and fifteen, she took me out every December to go shopping for Christmas gifts. She decided she wanted to get me something I really wanted, so I would always pick one out and she would wrap it up for me. I would also use this opportunity to buy gifts for my parents and sisters. We always had fun, and considering the size of our family, it was one of the few times I got to spend with her one-on-one. She also used to take me and my cousins to see musicals in Toronto or locally, as birthday gifts. Over the years, I saw the Lion King with her and my cousins, Beauty and the Beast with her and my sisters, and Cats.
Everyone handles death differently, and my family is a prime example of this. My dad looks sad for a day or two, but for the most part behaves normally, and never cries. My mom tells anyone who will listen the lengthy story about how we have just had a death in the family, and my sisters (as I mentioned earlier) have no reaction whatsoever. Usually I find myself in disbelief about it for a few days, feeling sad at the most random times, and awkwardly thanking anyone who offers their condolences. It was partly so surprising because it was my aunt. Sure, she was 14 years older than my dad, but that's still not that old! Aunts and uncles don't die. Grandparents and great-relatives and goldfish die, but only if they're old. And even then, after a lengthy illness. Not so suddenly.
It made me a little frustrated with the world. It seems strange to think that soon her house will be sold and we'll need to go somewhere else for Christmas dinner, and that her new car, which she was so proud of, was kind of a waste (she only had it for about six months). And that now I only have four aunts (plus my mom's sister), and that I will soon only have mental images of her and her house (as well as a few actual photos). And I don't even think she found out about me getting accepted to my favourite university, because I got that letter a few days after Christmas, and I told everyone else at New Year's, at which point she was already in Florida.
I miss her. But I hope she's proud of me. And I know my grandma and grandpa are now reunited with their oldest daughter, and she can tell them 'hello' from the rest of us.
My great-aunt and great-grandma were both in their nineties when they died, and they had been very sick for quite a while. My grandma was nearly seventy, and her health was in decline for several months before her death. My aunt was fifty-nine and we had less than a week of warning before she died.
My dad has a large family - five sisters, two brothers and him. His parents are both dead (his father passed away before I was born), and the siblings are scattered all over the province - one even lives in Alberta. Despite that, it's a very close-knit family, with eight grandkids (only 4 of the siblings are actually married). Save for the ones in Alberta, we all visit at New Year's, Easter, Mother's Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas; even the Albertians fly in during the summer for a 'family reunion'.
Because of this, I last saw my aunt at Christmas, right before she left for her snowbird condo in Florida. At Christmas she was kind of thin and tired, but our whole family always naps at Christmas, (sometime between the gifts and the turkey) so I didn't think anything of it.
Then, about two weeks ago, my mom told us all at dinner that she 'needed to talk to us'. Now, I just know that anytime my mom says anything in that ominous a tone, that something bad is happening. She tells us my aunt is sick in Florida. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but it's clearly something bad. When I hear 'sick', I think having a cold or a fever or something. People don't call their relatives back home to inform them about something like that. And people definitely don't tell their sick relatives that they should fly back to Canada over something like that. Apparently the day after that, her sister flew down to help her pack up - and she had collapsed. I was really confused, hearing everything fifth-hand didn't help, but I still didn't know what 'sick' meant, it's a terribly vague word. I found out later that she had had surgery over the summer to remove a benign cyst from her stomch, and that once she fell it caused internal bleeding/she fell because of the internal bleeding? So of course, they rushed her to the ER and she was placed in the ICU and we found out on Thursday that she was having organ failure, and they didn't expect her to last the night. So I had some warning, but not much. And on top of that, I had an exam the next day, and another incredibly stressful one the following Tuesday. She died Friday, around noon, after my exam, but my dad didn't tell me until around five o'clock (coincidentally, right before I was about to leave for work). I went to work in shock. It didn't go terribly well, but that's a story I probably should keep to myself...
Funerals have always made me uncomfortable - especially when there's an open casket. Those freak me out so much, I never go near them. When my great-aunt died, I was pretty young, so I just stood with my cousin the whole time and talked quietly. At my grandma's visitations, I felt really sad but couldn't bring myself to cry, even though everyone else was. I pretty much sat in a corner by myself, ignoring and being ignored by everyone. I remember my sisters were playing and acting like everything was fine, and I remember being irritated with them for that. Looking back now, I realize they were only about 7 at the time, so they didn't have much of a grasp on what was happening. But at the time, it really bothered me; it almost seemed as though they were being insensitive or something. The next day, at the actual funeral, I was sobbing uncontrollably the entire time and couldn't make myself stop. Strange, given how dry my eyes had been the day prior, but I suppose it had finally hit me - I hadn't cried since a brief moment the day I found out about her dying.
My great-grandma's funeral was much the same as my great-aunt's had been six years earlier. There were no visitations beforehand, but I stell felt terribly awkward. To put it in perspective, I had been born when she was eighty-two, and while she was very healthy for someone her age (until the last few months), her memory was steadily growing worse through all my memories of her. She was a nice lady, and always listened with great interest whenever I told her something, but eventually she got to a point where she couldn't remember which of her 5 great-granddaughters I was, or pretty much anything anyone told her. She would try to tell us a story from her childhood, and then get into a debate with my grandma (her daughter) about the accuracy of the details. My mom and grandma were both crying at the funeral, but I never did. I think it was because they had better memories of her than I did.
My aunt's death was different. I didn't cry too much (except for a bit at work that first night) at the funeral; it came and went in bursts of tears, but it seemed I cried a lot less than my aunts or any of my cousins. I wrote my exam on schedule, and went to work (which I now regret). My sisters were pretty much indifferent - again, I felt irritation towards them, but again, I wondered why I wasn't more upset.
My aunt was a fascinating person. She played golf almost religiously, loved Broadway shows and cared more about her family than anyone else. She was full of jokes and hugs, but if someone stepped out of line, she didn't hesitate to tell them so (which sometimes pissed my sisters off). She was more a fan of plants than animals, and never married, but had a busy social life.
For a few years, between the time I was ten and fifteen, she took me out every December to go shopping for Christmas gifts. She decided she wanted to get me something I really wanted, so I would always pick one out and she would wrap it up for me. I would also use this opportunity to buy gifts for my parents and sisters. We always had fun, and considering the size of our family, it was one of the few times I got to spend with her one-on-one. She also used to take me and my cousins to see musicals in Toronto or locally, as birthday gifts. Over the years, I saw the Lion King with her and my cousins, Beauty and the Beast with her and my sisters, and Cats.
Everyone handles death differently, and my family is a prime example of this. My dad looks sad for a day or two, but for the most part behaves normally, and never cries. My mom tells anyone who will listen the lengthy story about how we have just had a death in the family, and my sisters (as I mentioned earlier) have no reaction whatsoever. Usually I find myself in disbelief about it for a few days, feeling sad at the most random times, and awkwardly thanking anyone who offers their condolences. It was partly so surprising because it was my aunt. Sure, she was 14 years older than my dad, but that's still not that old! Aunts and uncles don't die. Grandparents and great-relatives and goldfish die, but only if they're old. And even then, after a lengthy illness. Not so suddenly.
It made me a little frustrated with the world. It seems strange to think that soon her house will be sold and we'll need to go somewhere else for Christmas dinner, and that her new car, which she was so proud of, was kind of a waste (she only had it for about six months). And that now I only have four aunts (plus my mom's sister), and that I will soon only have mental images of her and her house (as well as a few actual photos). And I don't even think she found out about me getting accepted to my favourite university, because I got that letter a few days after Christmas, and I told everyone else at New Year's, at which point she was already in Florida.
I miss her. But I hope she's proud of me. And I know my grandma and grandpa are now reunited with their oldest daughter, and she can tell them 'hello' from the rest of us.
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