Today did not get off to a good start. I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. I weighed myself, only to discover that I’ve magically gained 3 pounds overnight thanks to the magic of PMS. (Yes, I know that it’s water weight; no, that doesn’t make me feel better.) My face is broken out due to the aforementioned hormonal roller coaster. My Garmin’s batteries died while I was running, so I have no idea if I maintained my target pace. Nothing in my closet was acceptable. And to top it all off, I accidentally drove in the exit of the parking garage at work and got reprimanded by security. (I work at a secure government facility and you wouldn’t BELIEVE how uptight they are.)

Sigh.

But rather than brood about my pissy mood, teenage complexion, and bloated tummy, I decided to be kind to myself. For once. I started thinking about it–what would make me feel better about myself right now? And I came up with this list of quick self-esteem boosters.

1. Accomplish something. Pick a small task, get it done, and then congratulate yourself. Good job, Jen! You already cleared your inbox!
2. Name three things you like about yourself. Do this quickly, off the top of your head–don’t give your pesky Inner Critic a chance to question your choices. (1) I make my husband smile. (2) I’m totally committed to my marathon training. (3) My arms are looking pretty toned since I’ve been hitting the gym!
3. Obey the signs. Use this tip from Leslie and put a sticker or a sticky note on your computer screen (if you’re a desk jockey like me, that is) that says something like “Hello, cutie!” or “You’re beautiful!” or “Great job!”. Corny, yes. Effective, double yes.
4. Do a good deed. Hold the elevator for someone. Pay the toll for the guy behind you. Give money or food to a homeless person. Do something nice for someone else and then take a moment to feel good about yourself.
5. Practice forgiveness. If you’ve done something wrong or made a mistake and you can’t stop thinking about it, make a conscious effort to forgive yourself. Take a moment to yourself, allow the scene to replay one final time, and then say (out loud is best) I FORGIVE YOU. Then let it go.
6. Hit on yourself. OK, this sounds silly, but I have a friend who does it and it really does boost your mood. Every time you look in a mirror today, say a cheesy pick-up line to yourself. “How you doin’? (a la Joey from Friends) or “Lookin’ good!” or “Hey there, hot stuff!” Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it…
7. Treat yourself. Get a manicure. Have a fancy cocktail or a decadent cup of hot chocolate. Get a massage. Take a bubble bath. Do something that makes you feel good!
8. Work some magic. Use your magic wand to turn your weaknesses into secret strengths. Got a short attention-span? You’re a multi-tasker. Tend to be shy? You’re interesting and mysterious.

I intend to use ALL OF THEM at some point during the day. Got any others for me?

Following up on Self-Esteem Week, Kel has written this great post about teaching self-esteem to our children. I’ve been reading her blog faithfully for a few months now, and absolutely love her new website, Cafe Kel. You must check it out! And now, I’ll turn it over to Kel…

Teaching our children self-esteem…is it really possible?

As a mother to two beautiful little girls I often wonder how am I qualified to teach them self-esteem when I struggle with my own? We all (as parents) want to give our children much more than we had. Generations before us have all had one common goal, to provide a better future for the generations ahead. The one catch…  how? The role of parenting does not come with a blueprint, it’s not like the hospital hands us a guide book on how to handle the situations that arise from raising children, and all we really have to start with is our own childhood, which isn’t always pretty.

Growing up I had to work for everything I got. In my own way I learned how to earn what I wanted out of life, this however did not equal self-esteem for me. I had a horrible sense of self-esteem, and even today I struggle with my perception of how good I really am. I learned early on that nothing was free, however in the same process I also learned that I don’t always measure up, that I can work, work, work and still not succeed, ergo I’m not good enough.

I look at my oldest daughter, who is 6 and now facing a world where I can no longer shelter her from life-at least not the life that is sunshine and flowers, where everyone gets along and differences between people don’t exist. Is there any real way to teach her that life is not always fair or that people can be cruel for their own pleasure without ruining her innocence? Is there a right way to teach her that hard work will one day pay off or that giving up is never the answer without exposing her to the other side of the coin? Is there really a way to provide my daughters the opportunity to try and fail, learn from their mistakes and still keep them from the harsh reality of life?

Almost every generation out there points blame to our parents for what they did or didn’t do for us as children, they did too much or they didn’t do enough, but where does that line lie? How do we know when is enough?

As a mother the best I can do is try. Some day’s this means letting her fight her own battles with the little girl who is mean to her, sometimes this is shielding her from the truth about why her biological father doesn’t call anymore. Innocence is a precious thing that can only be had once. There are things I would shield her from everyday if possible, but that is not realistic. The best I can hope for is to cheer her on when she reaches for her dreams and provide a shoulder for her to lean on when it doesn’t always end the way she’d hoped for.

My only advice for teaching our children self esteem is to give them hope, but teach them how to cope with what life brings and to always provide a safe place to come home to when they need it.

Thanks to all of you who guest posted, commented, and suggested topics for Self-Esteem Week. I thought it was a smashing success! But before we say good-bye to the subject, I wanted to write one more post. Today’s topic is self-esteem and body image.

“I feel fat.”

How many times have you uttered those words? Or if not you, your coworker, your mother, your sister, your best friend, or your daughter?

 Image from http://www.lifedynamics.com

“I feel fat.”

I find myself thinking those words at least a few times a week. After a ten-year battle with an eating disorder, my self-esteem is pretty much welded to my body image. When I feel good about myself, when I like who I am, I feel “skinny”. When I make a mistake, when I’m not 100% perfect, I feel “fat”.

But what sense does that make? Look up the definition of “fat”. It has absolutely nothing to do with emotions or state of mind or the self. Absolutely nothing. So what on earth do I mean when I say I feel “fat”?

I mean that I feel guilty or ashamed. I mean that I feel anxious. I mean that I don’t like myself very much at that moment. I mean that I feel lonely or restless. I mean that I feel angry or frustrated. I mean that I feel bad about myself.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to feel these feelings (makes sense, doesn’t it?). I couldn’t control the world that made me sad or angry or frustrated. But you know what I could control? My body. So instead of claiming and expressing my feelings, I started directing them inward, acting them out on my body. Bad = fat, good = skinny. The only way to be “good” was to be thin.

I did very destructive things in my quest to be thin. I starved. I binged. I purged. Over and over again. After a decade of this behavior, my body has become the barometer of my worth.

But now, as I contemplate having children in the next few years, reclaiming myself and loving my body have taken on more and more urgency. This body that I’ve punished and hated for years will eventually give me children. Those children will look to me to teach them. “I feel fat” is not a lesson I want my children to learn.

I’d like for all of you to make a promise with me. Let’s banish “I feel fat” from our vocabularies. Let’s learn that it’s OK to feel angry or frustrated, and let’s learn how to express ourselves honestly. Let’s start loving ourselves a little bit more and judging ourselves a little bit less.

Are you with me?

Today’s post focuses on self-esteem and spirituality, and comes to us courtesy of the Belle of the Blog. Belle presents a particularly interesting (and original) take on the relationship between our view of ourselves, our view of others, and our view of the world and What Made It. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it as much as I did!

“I know I’m somebody, ‘cause God don’t make no junk.”

I remember the first time I ever saw or heard that phrase. It was on a little plaque hanging over the desk of one of my mother’s co-workers. There was a little country-mouse of a girl on the plaque, with mussed-up hair and two missing front teeth. I was seven and it seemed really silly to me to see something like that in an office. I also felt like whoever wrote it had made a mistake. God most indeed did make junk. I was proof of it.

I realized this one day in the first grade when my best friend LeeAnn told our entire class I didn’t have a daddy. Suddenly, taunts of “You’re a bastard!” sung out loudly by a kid named Buddy, were ringing in my ears. Everyone was laughing at me. I cried. I pleaded with them to stop and told them my dad had been killed in a car accident, but LeeAnn told them I was lying. And she was right. And I knew I was supposed to be ashamed of this truth. My own mother had even said to me, “Your father didn’t want you, but I love you.”

That day when I went home, I asked my grandmother what a bastard was and she told me that it was a child who didn’t have a daddy. She said, “Your mother is a whore and you’re a bastard, but I love you anyway.” And she did love me. And I know she didn’t know any better than to say that. But boy…did it stick with me.

I spent my whole life wishing I could be loved. Not because I was smart. Not because I had a father. Not in spite of the fact that I didn’t have a father. Somewhere along the line I also began to wish I could like myself. No matter what nice things friends or teachers or even my crazy mother or grandmother told me, I never really believed them. How could any of it be true when I didn’t have a father? When I was a bastard, the child of a whore?

When I was 15, I got lured back to the church where I had attended Sunday school as a small child. I remembered everything about the church…. The crisp white cinderblock walls. The way it smelled. The red Kool-Aid and Lorna Doones we always had for a snack during Vacation Bible School.

Soon, I was quite active. I volunteered in the nursery. I joined the Teen Choir. I fell head over heels for the sense of belonging I had there.

Soon I was baptized, believing that if I gave my life to God (whatever that meant), I would find happiness. I would find love. So, on a warm, sunny Sunday morning, I was dunked by our minister and praise the Lord! I had been saved. At least on paper. Continue Reading »

Today’s post comes from Love. Self. Entirely., a relatively new discovery who has quickly become one of my favorite blogs. C. writes with passion and insight about issues ranging from procrastination to body image to self-destructiveness. If you haven’t checked out her website, go there now!! I’m very excited to present her perspective as a Gen Y-er about self-esteem and the “Me” generation. Enjoy!

From all of the articles that I’ve read, it seems that I belong to Generation Y–a generation known somewhat for being hardworking, but more for being needy narcissists with a materialistic bent.

Most of you probably noticed how generalized and simplistic that assessment of an entire generation of people sounds, but I’ve noticed while researching material for this topic that countless articles seemed to focus their entire thesis on similar thoughts or statements. Some people might fit this broad, sweeping characterization, but I’m confident that you will find people that embody these same type of traits across many generations. The notion that this is primarily what we (Gen Y) are known for amuses me.

Part of me wonders if it’s more of a cultural generalization than a generational one. I grew up in a small town in the suburbs of Maryland. I was the oldest child of a middle class, black family. My parents didn’t give me everything I wanted. I had an allowance that was taken away if I misbehaved. I had periods of being grounded. I was spanked (I deserved it) when I acted disrespectful. Still, most would say my brother and I were levelheaded kids compared to some of the others that we knew.

If I did something exemplary like get straight A’s, I got the token “Good Job”, but no one threw me my own personal parade. “Praise” wasn’t a well-known word in the Wright household, and I can’t say if I’m better or worse because of it. What I’m trying to say is that I had to work for everything–nothing was handed to me on a silver platter–and I never expected to be acknowledged for every good thing that I did.

As I stated above, I was minimally praised while I was growing up; more often than not I was criticized. I was never good enough–someone or something was always bigger or better than me, not to mention that I had no one to look up too because it seemed no one looked like me. That instilled in me the drive to succeed and prove to everyone (but more to myself) that I could stand on my own and that I wasn’t what everyone perceived me to be. I had the street smarts, the intellectual savvy, and the beauty to combat anything and win or at least give it my best shot.  I didn’t grow up believing that the world owed me something because I was born or because I was smart. I realized from the beginning that I had to prove myself in this life.

I know plenty of people in Generation Y who are more like me. We don’t buy into the entitlement hype. We get out there and we work, even if we aren’t particularly pleased about our current job situation. We moved away from our parent’s nest early or right after college, and we paid for our own clothes, cars, and housing. We take care of ourselves. We realize that life is not going to be a walk in the park–we know that you have to learn to combat and roll with life’s challenges.

But where are the statistics representing Gen Y-ers like me? Why don’t they refer to us and discuss the very real issues that we deal with?

Take me for example. I’ve suffered from an eating disorder since I was 9 years old. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t made fun of for being heavy. Even now that I’m 20 pounds from my goal weight, I struggle still. The only way I knew for people to show how much they cared about me was to walk all over me, and I was afraid to stand my ground because I didn’t want them to leave. I’ve researched the information out there about Generation Y and, unless I searched specifically for it, it was hard for me to find information concerning the increasing prevalence of eating disorders, particularly within minority groups.

No one wants to talk about that.

Why do people only tend to address the esteem issues when something catastrophic happens (i.e. Columbine or Virginia Tech)? Then, the low self-esteem of Gen Y is recognized. But in normal situations, countless articles reducing the character identity of Generation Y to a bunch of whiners, who (even though they DO hard work) have to be pacified constantly in order to be satisfied.

In order to be fair and thorough, people have to address all aspects of an issue, but I feel that most of the articles that discuss Generation Y seem to lack overall balance. Perhaps more of us than in prior generations have more self-esteem, but as media-driven as our society has become, I believe our focus should be shifted onto how the images and messages of the media have impacted this generation. If we focus on what needs to be changed instead of what currently exists, maybe the issues this generation is grappling with so painfully can be more successfully dealt with by the next.

Or, I’d like to hope so, anyway.