It seems that everyone is posting some form of “what I accomplished in 2020” bit. Some are railing against the year in review practice, because this year was such a dumpster fire that merely surviving should be enough. Others are stating that they are proud of learning to gratefully accept what they have. As for me, like everything, it’s complicated.
I am grateful for my health. I am grateful to be employed. I am grateful for my family’s health. I am finally grateful for… me.
You see, I’ve lived about 35 or so years of my life utterly hating myself. Do the math, and that means this started in early grade school. I hated my awkwardness. I hated how different I was. I hated being aware of my differences. I hated being gifted. I hated having a photographic memory, because I could never forget anything. I hated my clumsiness. I hated my asthma. I hated my skin that burned in the shade. I hated my flat, limp hair. I hated the acne on my arms. I hated the freckles on my face. I hated my fat lips. I hated my allergy shiners. I hated my brain. I hated the expectations placed upon me. I hated not measuring up. I hated the need to be perfect. I hated the lifetime checklist placed before me. I hated being reminded of said checklist, and of the shifting sands of time. I hated the phrase “To whom much is given, much is expected.” I hated feeling that nothing I did would ever be good enough.
I sobbed every time I heard John Lennon’s “So This is Christmas”, because “what had I done?” I hated my birthday, and begged people not to acknowledge it. I felt like I couldn’t justify another trip around the sun because I hadn’t done enough the previous year to warrant it. It sounds ridiculous to an outsider, but in my head, my only value was in what I could do (or more specifically, what my brain could do). If I didn’t perform up to societal/familial/personal expectations, what value did I have? Answer: not much. So why was I still here?
I’ve been suicidal a few times in my life. At 11, I was bullied by both peers and a teacher, and as a result I thought that I was a burden to my parents. At 22, I had a broken engagement and I thought that I was a failure. At 35, I was in the depths of postpartum depression and thought my family didn’t want or need me. No actual attempts on my life were made, although I had notes written each time. I’m still here. My scars are invisible but run deep.
Even when not contemplating my imminent mortality, the self-loath was still bubbling beneath the surface. Underneath the confident, self-assured exterior was crippling anxiety and depression. I was in a constant war with myself. I would rage against myself for the tiniest of perceived mistakes, and then beat myself up for years because my memory wouldn’t allow me to forget them. Worse, I would remember what I was taught in Catholic school: self-love was arrogance, which was a sin. So I’m not supposed to hate myself, but I can’t love myself either. There was no winning this war.
Except, to stop playing the game.
This year, things have changed. I don’t know if it’s because I have the right cocktail of happy pills, or because I finally recognize being appreciated for who I am. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve allowed myself to be less than 100% for a few years or because I’ve been fat for a few years. Maybe it’s because I get more hugs from my kids. Maybe it’s because I stopped giving a f***. Maybe it’s personal growth. Maybe it’s the summation of all these things. Something internal has happened that I no longer completely despise myself.
What did I accomplish in 2020? Self-appreciation. Not quite self-love, but a step in the right direction. I didn’t cry this year when the radio played John Lennon. I actually want to celebrate my birthday next month. I am living my life, for me, on my terms. I finally understand that I have intrinsic worth. This is a BIG DEAL.
I’m heading into 2021 with anticipation and excitement instead of pressure to perform. I am looking forward to making myself a better person, through self-care and self-improvement. I am looking forward to setting a good example for my kids. I am looking forward to being the kind of role model for others that I needed as a child. Love, forgive, and inspire. May 2021 be full of better days.
