Tag: self-esteem

Posted on

Coming Out of Religion, Finding Me (AKA The Art of Deconstruction)

End November Blog: Coming Out of Religion, Finding Me

(AKA The Art of Deconstruction)

11-19-2019

 

I was thinking back on my childhood this morning and realized how un-self-aware I was. For so many years, even into adulthood, I had no real sense of ME, of who I was, what came naturally and what didn’t, all of it. When you looked at me it was as if I was covered in mirror tiles so that you would only see yourself reflected back.

I’ve been called a chameleon because I learned from all of that, to get along with a lot of different kinds of people.

I became a people pleaser, though, and that was not so good.

Over the years from every angle I always felt I was being told who and how to be and it took me way too many years to come to understand that I have intrinsic value, I have my own unique set of gifts, my own personality.

For me, religion played into it with a constant (in my mind-warped) message that I was zero, I was nothing, I should never aspire to be anything other than a reflection of this Christ I was told about. That played right into low self-esteem for me.

Not everyone has such an experience with faith/religion I suppose but having stepped out of that culture I now more clearly see how much it damaged me.

As with all things there was good and bad for me. I learned a lot in a lot of areas but I never found me.

Religion teaches “die to self.” Thoughts of one’s self are selfish, bad, wrong. Self-care is wrong and becoming or at least appearing humble and obedient became gods or idols, things you must do to be accepted in the church.

Scripture about being perfect as God is, was pounded into us weekly.

I died to self, all right, but not in any kind of good or positive way. Yeah, this made me a horrible perfectionist… or maybe a perfect perfectionist.

Growing up as nothing more than a person who wanted to please my parents, my brothers, my friends and then ultimately the church (and as I viewed it, God) was not an easy way to be. Don’t get me wrong, I know how lucky/fortunate/blessed I was to have parents who dearly loved me, and as fallible as they were, tried their very best to raise us right. I got something many people in this world never got… I knew I had parents that loved me (and they still do).

I suppose something I never felt though, and maybe it was just my broken self’s fault, I never got the sense of being good enough. I never got self-esteem (not until I was in my 30s and 40s and it was barely trickling in then. In my 50s I can finally say I have it, in spades.)

This is what I know to be true NOW: (This is me speaking MY truth)

Any God worthy of my devotion would have to want people to be whole, to care for themselves first, so that they have strength to care for others and themselves.

We are not perfect and were never meant to be. I firmly believe that scripture is inherently flawed by nature of it being written and interpreted by flawed humans. I do not, cannot believe in any God that expects me to be perfect. Nope.

I could never believe in a God that doesn’t want the absolute best for me, which includes health, knowing myself and having self-esteem, knowledge of all of my own gifts and talents and not being afraid to use them, for fear of being thought less than humble.

If there is such a God who loves me like this, then he must want me walking in the fullest of all that I was created to be. He doesn’t want mini-me’s. If he created me with a writing talent then he must want me to use that talent to the absolute fullest of my ability, etc.

If he made me funny and sarcastic then, by god, that’s who I am.

I think we’ve done our children a great disservice if all we teach them is absolute and utter obedience. I interpreted that to mean that all others came before me, which meant that any other – may do anything they wanted to me and I had no voice. I wish I’d been taught how to stand up for me and what I, personally, believed in. That I matter, my thoughts matter, my opinions matter, and that I have a voice. I can say NO. I can say “You may come this far and no further.” I know that now but I fought hard and paid a heavy price for this knowledge. Boundaries. They are a powerful, necessary thing. I hope you have them. You’re in for a super hard ride if you don’t.

Over the years of being used, stepped on, discarded, raped, molested, called names, disrespected, well, let’s just say something my parents gave me in my genes combined with something I believe was given to me by my Creator, rose up in me. I began to realize that all that I had been told and taught by the world, religion, the people around me, was not necessarily true. I learned that there are a lot of lies being perpetrated on people disguised as truth. I learned that I, ME, only myself, could dig out truth and what that actually meant to me and for me. (Think of Frodo with the ring, it was ONLY his burden to carry). My life, who I am ultimately, is only my burden to carry.

I studied many religions and found a common thread in most of them, common lessons that were being taught. This to me said that who ever “God” is, He or she or they have been trying for millennia to get certain truths into our hearts and minds. I also truly believe that humans glom onto it and add and take away and distort at every opportunity over the last multiple thousands of years. For their own agendas. There is always an agenda.

So, yes, I believe there are absolute truths, it’s just that my list of those may be different than yours. (Why I call it My truth, because I have fought hard to find it and excavate it out of all the BS we are surrounded by and by everyone else’s versions of truth.)

There are things I bought into 20 years ago that I just do not and cannot believe anymore because my own life and experiences (and I believe, my Creator) have taught me to know better. Others don’t accept that. Bully for them. Be blessed and go find your own truth. Just please, make sure it IS your own truth and not a line of bull you’ve been sold just because it’s popular and widely perceived as truth.

All good things in life, all truth is hard won. If it came to you in a hand- me -down package, it isn’t yours. Find your own. Do the work for yourself.

If, at this stage of my life, I have any message to share with the world, it is this, these words written in this blog post.

You are worthy. I am worthy. We were each created unique and fabulous in our own way. Stop trying to be a carbon copy of anyone. Stop trying to please everyone or really, anyone (except maybe your boss at work, because, ugh, life.)

Whatever you’re given to do, do it with all of your might. Be the kind of person that can hold your head high because you know and love yourself and can choose for YOU who you are meant to be. (Hint: if you have a natural talent for something, that’s part of who you were meant to be! Find those things and fan those flames.)

If you find that you’ve poked your head up out of the forest and you’ve been chopping down the wrong trees, heading in the wrong direction, it is NEVER too late to change course.

Truth is, love yourself.

Truth is, love your neighbor, even when they don’t look or act like you.

Truth is, NEVER give your power away to an organization, religion, or political affiliation and allow them to do your thinking for you or replace your own conscience. Truth is dug out, never ever adopted.

And so, this is my story and this is my song. This is my message to the world.

We are created to love and care for one another. And if you can’t do that, don’t do any harm to anyone. (If I have a religion, this is it.)

I don’t share because I need you to like me. I share because I WANT you to understand me IF you choose to be in my life.

Be free, friends. Find Truth. Live your best life NOW.

(I’ve started a Facebook Group called The Art of Deconstructing for anyone who has left or is leaving organized religion. If this is you, look it up and join!)

Pammy

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on

My Thoughts Today June 21, 2019

Had a great idea today, got it from watching NCIS. I’m thinking of doing a Dead President’s Journal. Let me explain:

It’s not really anything to do with whichever dead president you choose to write to, it’s about writing a letter to someone who will never get it, never read it, in fact you’ll never send it anywhere. It’s your journal, your diary. Sort of like having a dead Pen Pal. Writing TO someone appeals to me. I feel like I might write differently. Yet this person I can really dump on and they won’t mind. Yeah, I think I’m gonna do this.

My nails are too long and it’s making it hard to type. Time to trim.

I am sooo enjoying my art journaling class and love my teacher (and the guest teachers, too). I feel like it’s taking me to the next level in my art journey and this thrills me to no end. I may be finding my own style, my own groove, and damn, that’s a happy place.

I’ve been taking an all-natural immune system booster thingy that seems to be working well for me. I finally think I see a light at the end of the tunnel and may be getting my health back. I have no idea what to do with all the energy I will have if this continues to work well (see all my rants about having sinus infections and a cough for 17 months straight and the docs, 5 of them, saying, “We can’t give you any more steroids and antibiotics for this,” and I’m like Oh Crap), like, I actually convinced hubs to move out of state to see if it would fix my health and it is a bit better with that alone, but mostly I was still struggling, so this health thing is HUGE for me, I cannot even tell you. I may finally be able to take over the world… or at least handle my own.

As for deep spiritual and philosophical stuff, I can only say I continue on my journey, and find more truths daily. The thing I have also found is that, if you have an epiphany or find some nugget of truth, it doesn’t pay to try to share that with anyone who simply cannot be there at the same time with you. Some things really are best unsaid, unless or until you find the gems in your life who get it and can genuinely hear what you’re saying and even kinda understand it. Or, even if they don’t get IT, they kinda get You, and that alone is truly special. Love my gold nuggets, my fam and friends. My art and literary tribes have become super special to me. Artsy people tend to be a different sort; quirky, swirly, different, weird, twirly, crunchy, and wonderful. They are my truest peeps.

I see God weekly at the beach. Sitting and watching the pale whitish crabs pop up outta the sand and toss aside the dirt they just dug out, then look at me and blink their odd little eyes (that sit atop sticks outta their heads) entertains and thrills me like mad. The pelicans that live and play in our area are also quite entertaining. I love how they fly in formation, and if one falls behind, they will come back for him. I really love when they fly super high, then dive straight down into the water to catch a fish.

There are so may lessons in nature, and they don’t involve pulpits or country clubs. The crabs, the pelicans, they just live their lives. They ARE who they are, they just BE. They do what they were made to do.

(MS Word keeps telling me I ought not say “outta” and such things, but hey, this isn’t for a book, it’s just between us friends, so I’m gonna take off my “editor” cap and let it flow.)

Maybe the biggest/bestest thing I’ve learned in the past decade, is that I do not have to care a whit about what others think of me. I can just BE. Be me, just like the crabs and pelicans. Ya think the pelicans go up to the crabs and ask why they behave the way they do? I think not. Live and let live. You be you and I’ll be me. So liberating, so powerful. And to think I used to think it was some duty of mine to go out and change everyone else so that I might understand them better. It is to laugh.

So much of who and what we are is handed down to us, it’s learned behavior, tradition, family patterns, whatever. It’s so powerful to finally look at all of that objectively, to choose what fits me and discard the rest. Forty, or even ten years ago, I could never have imagined being able to do such a thing.

And so, I come back to this… I am good. That means I am well and happy. I have moments of pure joy, times of sadness or despair, aggravation, even depression at times, but all in all, it is truly well with my soul. Because I finally found ME. I now know who I am. And I love me. And that’s pretty all right.

 

 

 

 

Posted on

Women & Self-esteem

I haven’t written a blog in a while. We moved to Florida in November and I started an art class in January and I’ve been dealing with annoying health crap as well. After a while I will really get the itch, so here I am! Finally doing a blog post again.

So many things have been on my mind and heart lately, but I wanted to share some thoughts on women and self-esteem. Earlier I commented on this older ladies’ post and she’d had her hair done and make-up done and she looked amazing, so I said “You are gorgeous.” And yes, I meant it, she did. I think it meant so much to her because we women, for so many reasons, don’t feel beautiful. I’d like to say this is a problem in older women (and goodness knows everything is harder and worse and amplified as we age) but it isn’t just older women. I’ve heard my grand-girls at ages 3 and 7 & 8 years old, make negative comments about themselves, their weight, their whatever. It breaks my heart.

I’m so glad I’ve had an awakening of sorts, and I’ve been through therapy, and I’ve made an attempt at getting a handle on these kinds of things. I try to take every opportunity to tell women (& girls) how beautiful they are. But also, to emphasize that they are also smart, or talented, or whatever other wonderful thing I may see in them (because it really isn’t all about the physical, though we’ve been trained to think that.)

I wish my parents had told me I was beautiful more often, and I’ll tell you why. This world and many, many of the people in it will take every opportunity to put 2 messages into our heads, as follows:

“It is all about your looks, pretty people do better, get more and better jobs, attract better men, etc. And you are just not measuring up to the ideal.” Show me one girl or woman who hasn’t experienced this in some way, even at a young age, and I’ll show you someone who grew up in a commune/cult. No, no, it’d even happen there. For whatever reason, this message will and does get across. The media, TV, movies, have traditionally been about this outer beauty and have, intentionally or not, sent the message to all females that we must fit a particular ideal or we are wrong/ugly/stupid/unworthy. And many boys and men have made it worse and enforced the idea by treating women as objects, requiring them to look a certain way before even considering a relationship, treating them as though they are “less than,” ugly, or just plain don’t measure up.

Well hallelujah and pass the jeweled crown, because I have a different message for ya. Women are so stinkin’ strong. They have been treated badly forever and still carry children inside of them, they do jobs of all kinds, traditionally-male jobs oftentimes, and often better, faster, and more reliably than their male counter-parts. They know from pain. They have taken the abuse and mistreatment and have grown stronger, tougher, smarter, for it.

This isn’t meant to be “anti-man,” no not at all. I know several great, good men, who do their best to treat women with the dignity and respect they deserve, but more often (in my 55 years of life) I have unfortunately found these men to be rare. More often we find the misogynistic cat-calling, judgy kind that will ask for a beer, belch, rub their beer belly, then complain that their svelte 140-pound wife needs to drop a few. Double standard? Absolutely.

In a TV show recently, there was a husband that said something to his wife about how she had “undermined his authority” and she came back with, “but I’m not under your authority, I am your wife and your partner, and someone you love.” I loved that.

This is a good place to segue into the topic of how religion and church have gone a long way towards propagating this attitude. For millennia men in the church have been taught to treat their wives as “under” them and just a little bit less than. That their opinions really don’t matter in the end. This (in my opinion) is a big manipulative abuse, one of many, that has been caused by mankind using the bible to subjugate their wives. Now I know a lot of you disagree, yet, I’ve seen about 65 % of the couples I used to go to church with, end up divorcing. Now maybe these weren’t all about their patriarchal attitudes, but it is very telling. It just doesn’t work in the real world. Even for religious, devout folks. It just doesn’t. There must be a reason… oh yeah, there is. It was never meant to be that way. I refuse to believe it another second of my life. (I actually came to this conclusion many years ago, and got freedom in a lot of areas. And yes, I’m a very happily married woman.)

But, as usual when I get going, I have digressed. Though it all plays together. Women have always been told they were, and treated, as less than, forever. It just isn’t true.

It’s time for women to come into their own, and it starts at a very young age. Stop telling your daughter she’s too heavy. If she has a serious weight problem that causes health issues, get her therapy and a doctor, but love and support her all the way. Tell her she’s gorgeous. Tell her she’s smart. Tell her you love the way she smiles, paints, writes, dances…. All of it. Never worry about it going to her head, because the only way it goes into her head is by giving her a positive sense of self-image and worth. Don’t forget tons and tons of compliments and positivity in every aspect and area of her being. Compliment her soul and spirit and how hard she works.

It begins in the home (as most things do). Fathers, show your daughters that their opinions matter and that they are capable of doing anything (I repeat anything) they want to do. Revere and respect them and they will give that back to you 100-fold.

Things are changing for the better for women, but we have so, so far to go.

As for me, I never negative self-talk anymore. I don’t call myself fat or ugly or stupid. I’m not, so why would I? I’m positive all the way. I get up each morning, (almost every morning!) excited and passionate that I get to use this bod to do the things I want, need and love to do. I’m free. And it’s amazing.

I am happier and freer than I have ever been, more confident, in control of what I allow around me (boundaries) and all that wonderful stuff. I got self-esteem in spades, and I’ve learned how to keep it going and growing.

(Hint: Stop worrying ALL the time, what others think of you. This is a BIGGIE.) I mean everyone. Be the real you and those who truly love you will stay with ya.

Don’t be afraid to speak truth to power. Your version of truth, not theirs. (I’ve learned everyone has their own.) Your spouse, your kids, your in-laws. Let them see the real you. They love you or they don’t. Simple but not always easy.

You gotta get you some of this freedom stuff. It will change your life.

PS: You’re gorgeous!! And powerful!! And worthy!! You really, truly are.

(I’m standing in my Warrior Stance. If you watch Grey’s Anatomy, you’ll know what I mean.)

Peace Out!!

 

Posted on

Me, then and now

Who’s this? Well, yeah… That’s a waaaaay younger version of me. I’ve found myself studying this photo and trying to get back there, to feel what I felt, remember who that girl was. I was so many things.

I was so very afraid of criticism and my peers not accepting me, I was a wall-flower. My family didn’t have a lot of money, especially in those earliest years, so we never had the coolest clothes, we weren’t the popular kids. My older brothers tried to look out for me a bit, but I very much felt alone a lot. On my own.

I won’t go into all of my issues at that time of my life, but suffice to say I had no idea who or what I was.  I never self-reflected really, just became sad, confused, angry, and I stuffed it all in. This girl watched a lot of friends come and go, chasing after things she often didn’t understand.

I want to talk about the good, though. She was so, so kind-hearted and empathetic. She loved easily and without question. She was hurt easily, but only because she wore her heart on her sleeve. Even then, she craved the connection I often speak of now, in my writing, She just wanted love and acceptance. She was a good girl.

Now, when I see this girl, I want so much to go back and meet her, give her a big hug and tell her everything would turn out okay. I get tears in my eyes thinking about it.

I would tell her:

You are good. You are worthy. You are beautiful. If others do not know how to see you, how to value you, that’s on them. You are stronger and smarter than anyone has ever told you. You can do great things, big things. You can change the world. You can make an impact. Chase your dreams, follow your heart, seek God but don’t let others think for you; not ever. Chase truth. Be YOU, the you that you were absolutely created to be.

And, girlfriend, don’t take 30 or 40 years to do it. Figure it out sooner!

I love you.