On acceptance
Or the things I'm wise enough to know I can't change about myself.
I once had a therapist told me I was sometimes too self-aware.
I tend to think of self-awareness as a good thing. I recognize how I come across in most situations and try to be conscious of how my actions impact others.
While she agreed this was positive, her point was that my self-awareness tended to fixate on the negative, often nitpicking the things I found annoying, whether anyone else noticed them or not (likely not). I maintained that my self-awareness was a virtue — a way to hold myself to a higher standard and become a better version of me.
She countered that I was using myself so-called “awareness” as a way to people please, keep myself small, and hold myself back. Which was more “self-criticism” than awareness.
Years of therapy later, I recognize her point.
Like many people I know, I am harder on me than I am on anyone else. I have a tendency to downplay my accomplishments and fixate on my failures. In an effort to stay humble, I blush when someone gives me an accolade and often counter with something that shows I’m not all that great (see the classic stories of Competent Teacher but #HotMessMelanie as an example). I don’t have the time or energy to get into the social construction of this, but this is something I see with most women I know and have had multiple conversations with my friends about how uncomfortable it is to let go of this mindset. To be as aware of our strengths as we are about our weaknesses and shout about our successes.
Since I moved to LA, I’ve been learning to break out of the chains that I put on myself—ways I masked who I am to fit a mold, a size (literal or figurative), or attitude of a person I thought I should be. In a way, my ADHD diagnosis helped this because I’ve recognized ways I have tried to fit myself to neurotypical norms that just don’t work with who I am or how I operate.
It’s frustrating and uncomfortable at times, but ultimately, it’s been freeing. Accepting who I am, faults and all, allows me to be the truest version of me and see myself as other people see me. And that’s the best me of all.
Ten things I’m accepting about myself this week
I have an obsessive personality. When I’m interested in something. I am interested and I want to know everything about it. It also becomes a major part of my conversations because I want to share my joy with others.
I am decent at keeping things clean and livable, but it’s okay that I want to hire someone to do some deep cleaning for me.
I have a terrible sense of time. Don’t ask me how long something will take. I’ll be wrong.
My sense of direction isn’t stellar either. Except for in Los Angeles, which continues to baffle me.
I am not going to be a size 4 or 6 like I was in college. My body has changed, and it has found a stasis that it likes. I may not always like it, but I am learning to love my body as it is. I am healthy and happy, and that’s what matters.
I am not great at planning. This will shock anyone who knows me because I am constantly the one reaching out to make plans. But I’m talking long term planning. I know where I want to start…and generally where I want to end…but setting concrete steps in the middle feels too restrictive to me. I need some degree of spontaneity.
I am a good talker. Sometimes I worry that I talk too much (okay, often I worry about that), but I’ve also learned that some people really like to listen. I also like to think I’m a good listener.
I get a second wind around 9PM. I do my best writing around that time, much to the chagrin of my sleep schedule.
I care a lot about what I’m wearing and how I look, and that’s okay. It doesn’t make me vain (okay, maybe a little), but it also makes me feel happy in my own body.
My car will never be clean.
Till next time!
Melanie