squee
the amen break
Registered: Jul 2001
Location: Norfolk, VA
Posts: 4678 |
self-loathing
Sad to say, I have quite a few friends who have extremely low self-esteem. Its manifestation runs the gamut from simple self-ridicule to outright depression.
I personally have always had a pretty brutal self-critical streak but at some point in the last few years there was some kind of maturing process or turning point and I seem to have a much more realistic image of myself than I did when I was, say, 18.
I go through peaks and troughs like everyone else but some people seem to stay in the troughs and never get out. I find myself wondering if this is entirely clinical/physical (ie, chemical imbalance) or if people's lifestyles or background has more to do with it.
In a sense this is just the old nature/nuture question but today I was just kicking the idea around which I read in CS Lewis.
It seems as if self-contempt, whatever its source, is the best starting-point for contempt of or even cruelty towards others, for cynicism, anxiety, apathy. I know good-looking men and women who are convinced that they are unattractive, and intelligent people who believe that they are stupid. And so in the end they bar themselves from quite a few things that would contribute to their happiness, and so it becomes a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy or vicious cycle.
It's during these low times that instead of people drinking to get happy with friends, they drink (or use other drugs) to buffer themselves against the world; or they have sex with people to try and make themselves feel better, and of course it doesn't work. In fact either can make someone feel worse.
I don't know how people rise up out of these valleys but as for myself...paradoxically...what always helps is just...laughing at myself. All of my problems suddenly seem so absurd and trivial--in comparison to what? I dunno. I know it's strange, doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Maybe it's just the magic of not taking oneself too seriously.
Well. Anyway. Just some ideas floating in my cranium, offerred for your delectation.
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What does polite society know of the secret hearts of men?
What shows the shuttered window but all the evil you can imagine?
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