A few things have me thinking lately about self-perception vs. the perceptions of others. Arguably, self-perception is all that really matters - if you are happy with yourself and your life, then who cares what anyone else thinks? On the other hand, if you find yourself in a negative self-perception loop, being able to take a look through others’ eyes can be helpful in offering some perspective. -Assuming, of course, that those “others” aren’t the same j-holes who contributed to you having a negative self-image to begin with.
What in God’s holy name am I blathering about? Well, maybe it’ll work better if I speak in personal specifics instead of obtuse generalities.
I wrote here about finding some old pictures of myself and realizing that I was a lot better looking back then than I gave myself credit for. That remark might come off as flippant at best, self-gratifying at worst. But for me it was a real revelation. You see, I had been pegged - I was The Ugly Girl. It started in 7th grade and followed me into high school. It started to subside slightly in 10th grade - but not enough to make my typical days any less difficult.* It probably would have followed me all the way to senior year if I hadn’t transferred to Augusta Prep. (Those pictures were taken during junior year, by which time my self-image had improved significantly - but the scars from a few years prior were still fresh. [Pardon the agonizingly stereotypical metaphor - it's late and I couldn't think of anything better.])
Seriously, though - some pretty whack shit went down during middle school and the first two years of high school. Trying to pretend it didn’t affect me deeply would be an outright lie. Transferring to Augusta Prep was like a breath of fresh air - these people didn’t know me, and thus didn’t know that I was The Ugly Girl. I could start fresh. Leaving Georgia altogether to attend NYU was another huge step. Now I was free of the possibility of running into people from my past while out and about. I’m glad I decided to transfer to UGA during my sophomore year - but those 3 semesters at NYU were hugely important on a personal level. I think things would have been very different if I had gone directly to UGA as a freshman from Augusta.
I like to think I’m mostly over all that shit now, at 25. But there are still times when the deeply ingrained self-doubt and fear creep up on me unexpectedly. It’s usually at particularly vulnerable moments (not surprisingly). And when that happens, I have to do my best to push it away and not let myself slip into the old familiar pattern of believing it. It also sometimes manifests itself at seemingly banal moments; for example, if I am given a compliment based on outward appearance - it could be something as simple as “You look nice today” - my knee-jerk internal reaction might be (and I know it’s going to sound like I’m fishing for a compliment here, but that’s NOT THE CASE, so don’t start with that), “Wow, really? They really think I’m attractive? Shock! Disbelief!”
Anyway. So that’s some shit I’ve been thinking about and dealing with. At times I tend to get caught up with this stuff, and I just go in circles thinking about it on an annoying, philosophical level. But it’s important not to let the past just sit around and fester.
* Ed. Note: Becoming closer friends with Jenny and Niki in 10th grade also helped immensely. Credit where credit’s due - I love you ladies. :)
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11 Responses to "Who I Was vs. Who I Am"
Jr high sucked. I got teased all the time, and (in turn) teased other kids who were even lower on the totem pole than me. It’s a pretty shitty age–I’m always surprised when I talk to middle school teachers and they say they like kids that age.
I think most of my twenties were spent getting over the crap that had been heaped on me back in jr high. Maybe everyone has to go through that to some extent. All the cool people, anyway.
You know what I find scary? The generation who went through those horrible years (at least one of the first to talk publically about them) are now teachers and mentors for children at that tender age today. I only hope they remember those years and dont add to the problems. To clarify: those people who went through those horrible years but didnt realize it is other peoples short comings and not your own-who think being popular is the answer. So now they are trying to make sure their child has material things so they are popular instead of teaching them to be true to themselves. this may sound silly-but i see it happening specifically in high socio-economic classes and it is scary-and sad. The self esteen classes we are doing with them is great-but not if the teachers, parents, whoever their role model is-doesnt “preach” it.
I had the same thing coming out of middle school as an “ugly kid,” but then a jv cheerleader (who personality-wise should have never been a cheerleader and in fact quit after that year) decided that I was cute. I thought it was a cruel joke when she said that she wanted to go out with me (like some “date a dork” hazing thing) Anyway, we dated and from then on I was considered cute.
Looking back, I’m convinced that beauty and ugly in those years are completely arbitrary. I don’t know why we still let those experiences shape who we are today.
Yep, yep. All my insecurities about my height comes from all the assholes in elementary, middle and high school.
THANKS GUYS.
Wow. I just posted an entry about something similar - about perception of self. ‘Cept my post was more about my delusions of grandeur than about self-doubt. Don’t worry, though, I’ve got a whole closet stuffed with self-(c)loathing. I’ve posted about that in the past. Maybe I’m getting back to blogging after all. No more cute stories, though. Okay, not a lot of cute stories. Only some.
I suppose we have our own crosses to bear (pardon the Jesus-face metaphor), but my self-doubts have centered almost entirely on my ability to be loved. Like, I worry that I’m not loveable. That there is some kind of flaw in me that would prevent anyone ever from loving me. Shitty, huh?
For what its worth (nothing), I think you’re cute.
Well, I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but…
I am not letting it affect me. I am admitting that it does affect me, like it or not, because - hello - those experiences were hugely significant during some crucial years when I was developing a sense of self. To try and push those experiences away, or minimize them (by referring to them as “teasing” for example - as if it’s just fluff) is counter-productive. If you ever want to truly grow, you have to DEAL WITH YOUR SHIT, not pretend it doesn’t exist, or try to play it off as something unimportant.
YES, the definitions of who was ugly and who was hot in those years was totally arbitrary. I have never disputed that - it has always been glaringly obvious. Does that make the effects of what happened any less painful and real? Nope. Intellectual understanding of a situation only gets you so far. It’s those pesky emotions that are more difficult to deal with. That’s where the shit REALLY sticks.
I find that people that tend to tell you that you should “let it roll off of your back” and “don’t listen to them, because they are just being mean” don’t truly see or understand what YOU are going through/have gone through. As someone that had a pretty shitty middle and high school experience (i.e. try having the entire school calling you faggot, and even having teachers join in on the “he’s a really a girl” taunting…), I totally get where you are coming from; and just by someone saying that I shouldn’t let it bother me because all those kids were dicks, doesn’t really help ease the pain; I still look back on those years and shudder.
I guess my thing is that people really don’t know what you are feeling, unless they are able to walk down those halls in your shoes. I even have friends that were friends with my in high school that don’t think it was that bad for me; but they didn’t see it through my eyes.
I totally understand that people’s perceptions of you, no matter how inane or fucked up they may be, still leave an lasting impression on you, and unfortunately force you to confront that in your development. And that shit sucks. And I guess, ideally, what I would like to see come from my saying all of this, is one of those preppy assholes read something like this, and be nicer to, OR JUST IGNORE, the kid whose life they make a living hell each day.
Sorry to hear that people were so mean to you. Of the pictures I have seen, they were WAY off, and were most likely trying to cover up their own insecurities; but you are right, that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Maybe all of those kids had plans of becoming therapists, and were just trying to develop a future clientele base… ARGH!!!
Duane - sounds like we both had similarly awesome high school experiences. Like Joseph said, it seems like most of the “cool” people went through hell in high school - but I would hope it doesn’t have to be that way. And I agree with SB’s point about those who went through this shit not perpetuating it - even though it seems like in many cases they are (like SB pointed out). Anyway, specifically in response to this…
Good fucking point. The GDBF and I have discussed this before - too many people mistake what the word “tolerance” means. It doesn’t mean you have to like or approve of everybody - it just means you LEAVE THEM ALONE. Live and let live - doesn’t seem like that difficult of a concept.
YEAH!!! I feel that we have bonded, now. YEAH!!
*sigh*
The point is Amber that I was there in that position in middle school, so I can relate to what you are saying. Like Duane says, confront it. Then you realize that junior high ended a couple decades ago.
It still sounds to me like you’re either misunderstanding what I’m saying, approaching it from some other viewpoint (I don’t know what), or being intentionally condescending. I KNOW “junior high ended a couple decades ago.” I’ve known that ever since it ended. Even THEN I had a pretty good concept of the fact that it was all BS. But my continued point is that, knowing these things doesn’t make it hurt any less. We can grow from these experiences and we certainly aren’t destined to be bound by them forever, but the point is - they were real, the sucked, they left lasting impressions, and we need to keep talking about this shit if there’s ever going to be any hope of kids not having to go through the same hell.