Search for self worth

When I was in high school for about two years, I use to watch every calorie I ate and over time it became easier to skip meals and restrict the amount of food I had as well. My memories are a bit hazy, but it felt good to have self control and as our society rewards us for this trait as well as having a slim body, it was quite a reinforcing cycle. In my teen mind during the huge change of neural pruning that was upon its networks, somehow I internalised the idea that if I can maintain this socially acceptable appearance (which I believed was the only worthy thing about me) I would feel better. Furthermore, our culture bombards us with billboards, magazines and social media sprouting thin/beauty ideals about how we need to look to be accepted and secure in the social hierarchy.

Fast forward decades, I work as a therapist at an eating disorder facility. Whilst piecing the puzzle together as to how someone ended up where they are is often met with a solid wall of denial about what their reality has become. This makes me ponder on how difficult it can be to accept our reality as it is and as humans we construct, invent, defy, push, control and try to fix our experiences into a shape that is more palatable. However, the problem is that it can wear us out until our original pain is buried 10 feet under layers of suffering. It is so often about trying to avoid our feelings that we end up with endlessly complex behaviours to keep ourselves busy and productive, distracted and numb. Over time, we are disconnected from our bodies, our inner selves, and of course our emotions that we don’t know who we are or what we actually feel about anything.

One does not have to develop a raging eating disorder to relate to this predicament. I would hazard a guess that our modern lives and societal messaging programmes us for carrying on with chronic busyness, productivity and achievement-focused intellectualisation in the fruitless pursuit of self worth. I am not against goal setting or taking on challenges that shape and define us. Yet I am against the idea that our self worth is tied to what we achieve, how we look or what we own. Marketing has shaped these ideals as the path to happiness and fulfilment. Well if that was the case, why are there a lot of high achievers from affluent backgrounds reaching perceived milestones with poor mental health and low self esteem?

We need more of the idea that we are inherently worthy just as we are. It’s a concept that secure attachment to loving parents who put the onus on effort rather than outcome (achievement) can help to foster. Yet even with this protective factor, many people simply inherit these feelings of unworthiness in our competitive Type A culture. I’ve seen emotionally sensitive, empathic people internalise these beliefs as gospel which takes some effort and support to shift, until they realise that this not good enough narrative is not part of who they are, but what they’ve learnt.

Basically, the system is broken, not us. The system that portrays that external validation will lead to peaceful, contented lives. It’s like placing your worth badge on the jacket of a capitalist patriarch as they walk out of the door, never to be seen again.

I’m done with being told how I should look, act, spend money or get in debt to have arbitrary satisfaction. Outside the shoulds and shouldn’ts, I’ll meet you there.

Sculpture at Woodfolk Festival 2022, artist unknown.

Move over Plan B

 

I am a uni drop out again. I enrolled in a masters of social work in a hope to find some certainty to that perennial ‘what do you do‘ question in this far from sure world.  There’s dysfunction dripping thus demand for social workers is high and I wanted to find a ‘secure’ profession.

But life had a trail of little wakeup calls. I was shaking after a colleague downloaded about her abusive boyfriend and hearing yet another stress leave story, found me in bed contemplating:

What is driving this decision? And for whom am I doing it?

I am a slow learner. It takes me several times around the block over the same terrain for things to become clear. This current vocational plan (there has been many..) is yet another time I’ve placed onus on Plan B as a protection from owning up to my true desires, Plan A. It gets exhausting trying to hoodwink your soul. This conflict is something many artistic creatures face as following your passion in the arts is a hard, bloody road, not helped by society perpetually questioning its relevance, legitimacy and economic prospects.

But is it really a choice?

I lay there quietly asking the deeper parts of myself, and the answer was no.

After years of feeling like I need to find a career- an answer tied up with a pretty bow,  it was there all the time.  When I stood at the photocopier at my graduate job for a multinational, a poem licked my face. From the recovering heroin addict with a PhD in mathematics who helped change a flat tyre on my courier bike to the elderly lady who asked me (a support worker) to collude with her by hurriedly changing her spotted blood dressing gown so she could look ‘put together’ before the resident nurse came to do an in home assessment, stories have coloured my life. As I tidied away the decay in her Mosman apartment, we chatted early days at Women’s Weekly, her role as editor and laughed about the wickedness of life. I stood poker faced when asked if she was fit enough to remain living alone. Later I got a call from Deirdre’s son with a heartfelt thank you and news that she passed away peacefully in her own home weeks later.

I remember being asked ‘What do you want to be?’ upon graduating from high school for our school magazine. With ‘unthinking’ speed I answered

A constant Kombie cruiser

I have lived up to that. I have found by seeking new places, experiences, jobs and people- I find endless material, stimulation and variety that feeds my writing. Not good for a CV per se but when you are called to write and reflect on what you see in the world, you can’t turn it off.  Where do you learn how to be a writer? Yes you can do university and always get something out of it. But the qualitative research comes from living life. And maybe that’s what I have actually been doing, even when I felt I was ‘failing’ at this career game.

In Maleny, I am waiting tables, gathering dialogue and indulging in voyeurism. Chatting with customers and asking questions to tap into threads that hold opinions together. Moments that may find another life one day now I’ve fired Plan B.

I’m sitting here naked ready for Plan A-rse in the chair work of dancing whispering ghosts with grit under my keyboard.

Wish me luck and thanks for reading thus far.

Love Amy