My Worst, Most Self-Destructive Habit: Over Complimenting People.
When you idolise other people at the expense of yourself, are compliments always healthy?
Something that I have noticed about myself, a rather annoying, self-deprecating habit of mine, is one of putting other people on a pedestal/over complimenting people.
Sounds harmless, right? We’re told to be kinder to each other- great. The issue though, is that I use it as a substitute for being kind to myself.
Loving (them), Hating (myself)
When I see myself as wholly inadequate, whether that be in the way that I look, in the way that I talk, in the way that I write, just ‘wrong’ and somehow ‘lacking’ in literally any (and every) aspect of my life, I can (and do) end up idealising other people.
‘They look so hot- compared to me.’
‘They have the nicest accent- compared to me.’
They are perfect- compared to me who is not.’
Creating a superior (them) VS inferior (me) dynamic.
I realise that this is going to sound very narcissistic, but I suppose that the reason why I have a tendency to ‘over compliment’ people is, in a way, because I hope that people will echo those sentiments back to me- to help me to see that I am not as awful as my mind likes to convince me that I am and that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance, however small, that I am capable of, not just loving people, but of being loved by people, too.
Tell Me I’m Okay
I want someone to tell me that the reflection that I see when I look in the mirror isn’t real, to remove the noose (metaphorical, before you call the Samaritans), from around my neck and free me from the pressure of living in a body that I can’t help but degrade at every opportunity…
Thighs that no longer have a gap. Stomach that is no longer washboard flat.
The acknowledgment that I have to live the rest of my life within this body, the space that is supposed to be my ‘home’, yet a space that feels like nothing short of a prison, is hard. The realisation that I am always too much, never enough, never ‘just’, is hard. And, when every bit of food I eat just serves to further contribute to my belief that I am ‘too big’, ‘too much’, it’s all just so hard…
‘Your body is the least interesting thing about you.’ — I said ‘your’ body, not mine…
I so wish that I could take it on board when people say that ‘your body is the least interesting thing about you…’ I so wish that I could, not just write it down as a ‘motivational quote’ to think about ‘some other day’ (‘some other day’ that, when all we have is now, will never come), but actually believe it.
I so wish that I could believe people when they say that they like me, that they love me, that they want to be with me, and not constantly want to question,
‘Why?’
‘Why would they like me?’
Why Am I Never Good Enough?
While, rationally, I know that I am not as bad as my brain tells me that I am, while I am able to appreciate the things which I have accomplished in life, it is always short-lived, tinged with an ever-present feeling of being ‘lesser than.’
As a perfectionist/’over-achiever’, I’m never satisfied, but in a constant state of comparison. If I were to land my dream job today, then by tomorrow, I can guarantee that I’d find myself thinking about all the bigger and better jobs that are out there that I do not have.
Being such an over-achiever can have its benefits- the main one being that I don’t struggle to motivate myself, however the sense of never being good enough that it coincides with is a difficult one.
Never being good enough for myself. Never being good enough for anyone else…
Double Standards?
When I can compliment other people with total sincerity, when I can write pages and pages of poetry about how I love everything about someone else, yet I cannot fathom that any compliment directed my way is sincere, that there isn’t some ‘ulterior motive’ going on- Have they read something of mine? Do they know more about me than they’re letting on?, it makes no sense- irrational. Like the constant battle in my mind- irrational. Wanting to get close to people, but pushing them away. It’s the greatest irony, isn’t it, really? The irony is that, in my longing for love, I make it impossible to be loved.
‘Often, the reason why you feel admiration and fascination for what you see in other people is that that’s what you want for yourself. Work on yourself to become the best you can be.’
I want to change, I do. I’m not big on making New years resolutions, but an ‘intention’ I have for 2024, is to enrol in therapy, to work through all of this because I can’t keep doing this to myself, it’s exhausting and it’s… sad.
It’s sad that this very thing, self-hatred, is what landed me in the hospital 5 years ago, and, 5 years on, here I am- looking different, feeling the same.
Zero self-worth. Zero self-esteem. 22, with a brain every bit as messy as it was at 15, 16, 17.
~ 5 years on.
