When I was around 15 or 16 years old, also referred to as the starting age of drowning in self-pity and developing impostor syndrome, I realised that a lot of us define our self-worth by the amount of people we surround ourselves with. I guess this illusion was a side effect of the hierarchical system that was mainly built on bullshit, drama and lies, and indoctrinated us to a degree that we never fully got rid of the belief that popularity is synonymous with success and happiness. I filled too many of my school years with feelings of inadequacy, bad haircuts and the determination that if I wasn't liked by everyone, there must be something wrong with me. In which case I might have to add that yes, there is clearly something wrong with me. I just didn’t realise that there’s something wrong with everyone else around me, too.
The day I told this delusional system to shove its metaphorical finger up its arse, I put my middle one up in the air as I walked down the holy road of not-giving-a-fuck. I started pursuing my real interests, embraced qualities that were criticised negatively as a result of jealousy or insecurity from my critics, and I stopped practicing the notoriously known technique called arse-licking. There was enough people around me that lost themselves, wondering who they were if they couldn’t define themselves by their group of phonies, as a result of copying and transforming into the same prototype of an ideal person. Whereas I’m clearly and most definitely far away from being the finished product, at least I can somewhat feel like a prototype 2.0.
What you might want to hear now is the ending or future of a potential success story of someone who’s followed the path of self-improvement and become her best self. Well, I guess I’ve got to disappoint you this time. Realising the importance of putting an end to obsessively seeking acceptance and validation from others was probably some of the closest I’ve come to experiencing Buddhistic enlightenment. However, it did in no way cure me from the symptoms that come with constant pressure to succeed, meeting the expectations of others and proving to yourself that you’re not entirely shit all the time. Feelings of inadequacy and hopelessness are part of the uncertainty of life as well as the ever-developing mystery called personal identity, and sometimes, I do have to admit, that my urge to make people like me or want to be with me comes back whenever I crave validation and the confirmation that I’m at least mediocre or average at being the person that I'm inevitably stuck with for the rest of my life.
Since I’ve come to realise that relying on other people’s validation can’t exactly be a good source to maintain my sanity, I’ve been trying to focus on sourcing that validation within myself. I’m aware that this makes me sound like another one of those self-help-gurus, but if that’s what it takes to get back on track and feel good about being myself again, then I’d happily accept that idea. I might even instagram a picture of my avocado and caption it with a quote about self-love. I might not drink some kale juice, because that’s called going too far. What I will do, however, is to praise the act of enjoying my own company. I’m already more than comfortable with being with myself, but I want to be it’s a Friday night and I’ll ask myself out on a drink-comfortable with being with myself, while completely forgetting about the fact that the image of drinking alone perfectly paints the picture of loneliness.
In order to prevent myself from becoming my pubescent, insecure self again, I thought I’d start a new series with a cringy name sounding something like “On a date with my Self”. Forgetting about the embarrassing and slightly narcissistic name that’ll inevitably come with this challenge, every date will also be documented in a similar format: I’ll talk about where I went, when it happened and what exciting or not-so-exciting news I had to share. I’ll reflect on the time that’s passed since my last date, and perhaps even compliment myself for how I looked or what I’ve done. There is no good date without a little bit of talking about music and current reads, so that will hopefully be included as well. In short: I'll just talk to myself for an hour or two until I start giving my glass of wine the autonomy to talk back. I’m not entirely sure what you’d get out of being forced to come along to an imaginary and virtual date with me, but perhaps it’ll at least give you some suggestions on what to listen to and read, as well as showing that it’s okay to lift yourself up when needed and to confront your positive feelings without discrediting the negative ones. Maybe you will, too, be ready to take yourself on a date then.
