Showing posts with label self-confidence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-confidence. Show all posts

Sunday, February 21, 2016

The Beautiful People

It seems to me that one way of approaching individuality is to want to stand out from the crowd and be recognized for one's uniqueness.  I definitely felt that way as a child; I yearned to be "the best" at something--anything, really--and craved the specialness and celebration that would come along with that (it never happened).  But as an adult, I seem to have taken the opposite approach:  my wish is to blend in and be, for lack of a better expression, "just like everyone else."

I'm not even entirely sure what that means.

Well actually, I do know what it means, kind of.  It means I want to be like the Beautiful People.  Who are they?  They are the women I work with and the young adults who go to my shul.  The Beautiful People are socially confident, partnered, and fashionable...and best of all, they belong.  They are never the ones standing around awkwardly at kiddush; they never appear uncomfortable; they somehow instinctively know which necklace or scarf will pair well with which outfit.  The Beautiful People follow the typical trajectory of adult development:  degree, job, partnership, kids--all before age 40.  Whatever is the secret to normalcy, they all seem to know it.

And I?  I can stand in one spot for 20 minutes watching birds, but after 5 minutes of small talk I'm bored out of my mind (either move on to what matters, or let's call it a day).  I am often the one standing around awkwardly at kiddush. I literally have to give myself a pep talk before going to social events. Makeup rarely occurs to me.  And, unlike pretty much everyone I know in my age bracket, I'm single and do not have children on the horizon.  

What's interesting is, taken by themselves, none of those traits bothers me much.  I've been to a lot of therapy and I like who I am, more or less.  But there's no question in my mind that I would have an easier time belonging if I was a different sort of person--a Beautiful Person.

Now, thanks to all that therapy, I'm fully aware that I'm engaging in at least four cognitive distortions (perhaps more!) when I get into this line of reasoning.  The truth is, I know that the "Beautiful People" whose easy lives I envy actually have problems of their own. I also recognize that I don't know them well at all, and it's entirely possible that they feel much more insecure than they appear.  But all of that rational thought pales in comparison to the envy and awe that I feel as I watch them move in their social circles, stylish, coupled, and at ease.

Lately I have been thinking a lot about what it means to move through life on a different path and at a different pace than most of one's peer group. I reached out to several of my Recovery Mentors, all of whom are strong, authentic women who have, in one way or another, gone about life in a "less traditional" way.  I asked them two main questions:

1) How do you go about feeling confident in a life that brings you joy if you are not in sync with your peers?

2) How do you counter the inner voice that pesters, "What's wrong with me, that I'm not like everyone else?!"

My mentors responded with wisdom, vulnerability, and empathy. They let me in on their own journeys and how they found confidence and self-acceptance without needing to conform in all ways. Best of all, they showed me that although I often feel like the "only one" who has these challenges, I am most definitely not alone in the struggle to live authentically.  And in response to my second, "What's wrong with me?" question, one of my mentors had this to say: 

"Absolutely NOTHING. There is something so very right and very you that you are not like everyone else."

It was exactly what I needed to hear, and it made me think of the Jewish belief that we are all created b'tzelem Elohim, in G-d's image.  In Chapter 3 of Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Akiva says: "Beloved is man, for he was created in the image [of G-d]; it is a sign of even greater love that it has been made known to him that he was created in the image, as it says, 'For in the image of G-d, He made man.' (Bereishit 9:6)"  Not only are we each created in G-d's image, but G-d has taken the extra step of letting us know this about ourselves, so we can feel at ease with who we are and what path we are on.

When I stop comparing myself and my life with the fictitiously perfect lives of other people, I can recognize that there is a lot that is "so very right" about who I am.  I appreciate my ability to be patient and quiet and notice what is around me. I value my introversion and introspectiveness, but I know that I can connect deeply with other people.  I'm thankful that my mother taught me that a woman can, in fact, leave the house without makeup on.  And, I'm profoundly grateful for the qualities I have that will hopefully help me become a great foster or adoptive parent one day--whether I'm partnered or not.

G-d, in His infinite wisdom, made us each with the precise qualities that we need to have to fill our place in the world--and He has made sure we know that He loves us as we are.  But sometimes we will forget, and in those times, we all need people in our lives who will answer our cries of, "What's wrong with me?!" by saying, "Sister, listen: you are exactly who you are supposed to be."  I wish for us all that we have wise friends and loved ones who can guide us toward self-acceptance in those times when we need reminding of just how "right" we are.      


Sunday, November 20, 2011

Soul Sisters #1---Sarah

"Soul Sisters" is a new series on this blog, in which I will spotlight various historical Jewish women who, through their stories, have much to teach us in our own recovery-oriented lives. If you have an idea of a woman who should be featured, please leave a comment and share your ideas!

When I decided to explore the lives and lessons of ancient Jewish women, I felt it was only natural to begin with Sarah, the first matriarch of the Jewish people. I was a bit skeptical of how much I could truly relate to a woman from so long ago, who lived a life so vastly different from mine, but I found in Sarah's story many points of connection.

What stands out the most to me about Sarah is the clarity of her vision and the strength of her voice. Sarah desperately wanted to have a child to continue the line of Abraham, and she sought a creative solution to her childlessness. Sarah gave her maidservant, Hagar, to Abraham so that he and Hagar could conceive a child, whom Abraham and Sarah would then raise as their own. Sarah knew that being a mother of a nation was her destiny, and she was steadfast in her determination to make this a reality. After Hagar gave birth to Ishmael, Hashem told Abraham and Sarah that Sarah would, in fact, give birth to her own child, a son named Isaac, through whom Hashem would continue his covenant with Abraham. Knowing it would be Isaac (and not Ishmael) who would fulfill Hashem's promise, Sarah realized what needed to be done. In a voice clear and firm, Sarah ordered Abraham to cast out Hagar and Ishmael so that there would be no one to challenge Isaac's place as Abraham's successor. I've heard some people judge Sarah's action against Hagar as aggressive or even cruel, but what I think is important to remember is that Sarah never lost sight of the big picture, and she did what was necessary to protect the greater good--the future of the Jewish people.

What can we, as women on our own journeys of recovery, learn from Sarah's example? Sarah provides us with a model of female determination, self-confidence, and efficacy. She is a woman who knew her mission as the mother of the Jewish people, and she stopped at nothing to protect the generations she knew would follow her. No shrinking violet, Sarah was every bit her husband's equal, and he listened when she spoke her mind. Sarah had the courage to seek truth, envision the future, and live according to her convictions. May we all learn from Sarah to pursue our dreams, to be active agents in shaping our own futures, and to use the power of our own voices for good.