Odds Are

Funny, how one's self esteem so often rests on the opinion of others. If 100 people come into the store and say nice things about you, my friend Henry told me, and just one comes in and says something negative, odds are it's the negative thing that you take home. Truth doesn't even come into play.

It's an oddity of human nature, I suppose, that we can be so invested in others to define our worth and so easily shaken in our self confidence by harsh words, often from people we barely know. Even worse, we can choose to dwell on an unkindness, relive it and worry it like a painful tooth. Such moments become the building blocks of resentment and learning to shake them off is a wearying and complicated process. I still hear my mother's voice when I make a mistake or don't know how to do some particular task - scratchy and hoarse from smoking, heavy with resignation at my hopelessness, martyred by my very presence and resentful of all she was forced to do because her children were so useless. It wasn't true but it didn't seem to matter. I understood that none of us would ever be good enough, smart enough, capable enough, worthy enough and while I ached for approval, I also despised her on the rare occasions she grudgingly gave it. It was hard to admit, but I wanted the approval of a mother, not that of a drunk and to an extent that I'm not proud of, the child within still does.

My mother has been dead for years and I've come to realize that it's not just her voice I hear, sometimes it's my own.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. - Eleanor Roosevelt