What is Self-Esteem?
"No!" The sting of rejection. I've been licking my wounds after it struck again, and in the midst of processing how my Big Picture was impacted, my self-esteem was hit hard. Would I ever amount to anything? Thankfully, my last post helped me launch a reconstruction project, so I returned to the place that made the most sense---nature---and focused on quieting my mind. It was a little different this time, though, as I brought along my trusted ally, Molly, my family's 11 year old Dachshund/Sheltie mix. It seems no matter what embarrassing or ridiculous thing I do, Molly never makes me feel ashamed. There is never judgment; there is never a "no."
One day, I was in the backyard repotting some plants, and I invited Molly to join me as I trekked back and forth from the shed to the porch. I was making my last trip for supplies when I noticed a landmine; Molly must have relieved herself in the grass. After stepping into the shed to retrieve what I needed, I walked out expecting to see the landmine still intact, but it had vanished. I looked around trying to find it---did I imagine it?---only to see Molly nearby with a sh*t-eating grin..."No!" I called out, mortified at the idea that the pup who regularly showered my face with kisses had done something so disgusting. "You're going back inside! How could you?! Gross!" I lead her into the house, the irritation and repulsion spread across my face as I reprimanded her along the way. "If you were hungry, I would have fed you! You didn't need to eat poop!"
I went back out, ignoring her meek eyes that begged for forgiveness, and finished up only to return inside and find Molly hidden under our family room coffee table. Hm...that's odd, I thought to myself. Why is she under there? I should note that Molly has a propensity to hide under things, like my parent's bed, their dresser, and other furniture, particularly when she is afraid or sick. This was different, though. I went about my work with the plants, and when I was done, she was still there, hiding away. I laid down on the floor near the table to figure out what was wrong; her eyes told the story: I had shamed her. I tried to coax her out, apologizing for my outburst, but she didn't budge; she remained in the same spot. A little later, while working in the den, I turned around to see if Molly was in one of her usual spots: on the chair or on the carpet behind me. Nope, she was nowhere to be seen. Then, I noticed the end of a bushy tail sprouting from under the chair cover, and I realized, once again, she was hiding beneath furniture to avoid my shaming eyes. What had I done?
The disgust I dished out to Molly seemed to have gone much deeper than I anticipated, and I was reminded of the times I felt similarly shamed for something and buried myself away from judgmental eyes. When Self-Esteem turned up as my Name Game discovery, Yehuda Berg's words in The 72 Names of God brought me out of hiding: "As we grow, transform, elevate, and evolve spiritually by confronting our own chaos head-on---not fleeing it by escaping or pseudo-spirituality---our own spark of divinity and godliness glimmers with ever-increasing brilliance. It is in us. It always has been" (131). Wow! I don't know about you, but that description empowers me to go confront my chaos, yet when I consider the rejection I've experienced, particularly when it comes to the emergence of "No!" in its many forms, I can't help but retreat back to the same shameful cycle in which I've lived for many years. What does it take to actually believe myself to be a divine spark of energy?
I wish it were simple, that I would never doubt myself and act in accordance with my heart at every moment. That's not the case, though, and once again, my extended time away from the computer to write is indication of the inner struggle I'm feeling as I try to figure out what my underlying chaos is without turning to run in the opposite direction. So where is that doubt located? Is it my homosexuality? My appearance? My aging? From an early age, we all, at some level, begin our relationship with "No." Whether we are reminded of our physical limitations or being reprimanded for not conforming to social norms, "No" becomes a regular part of our vocabulary. How does this impact our self-esteem, though, especially if the actions we take reflect that divine spark? And to which belief system does the "No" issuer subscribe in order to negate these actions with authority? I uncover an answer in Eknath Easwaran's Take Your Time: The Wisdom of Slowing Down: "we look upon ourselves as the body. We try to satisfy ourselves by satisfying the body, and the more acute our inner hunger grows, the more desperately we seek" (154-155). As referenced in Like Reflective Surfaces, my obsession with hearing "Yes" took me to new levels of desperation---something I'm not looking to revisit---so how can I effectively confront my chaos without regressing?
I suppose there is only one way: by jumping out of a plane.
Say what?! I recognize it probably sounds absurd and hasty, but avid readers will recall that my experience in a plane crash left me doubting my connection to that divine spark at an early age. When I was in the Moab desert last year, I saw an advertisement for skydiving, but I didn't feel mentally or emotionally prepared to leap over that hurdle. A hot air balloon ride in Sedona was one thing. To jump out of a plane, I needed more spiritual preparation, so I made a pact to pursue this feat at a later date. Well, when 2018 arrived and I made a resolution to live more fearlessly, I put two specific activities on my list: skydiving and the polar plunge. Having gone through significant spiritual growth over the past 6 months, I decided the time was right and booked my jump, but did I have enough self-esteem to confront my deeply-rooted fears of heights, weightlessness, crash landing, and death in one fell swoop?
In late April, a wise friend recommended I try the Self Journal after I shared how my self-esteem was dwindling. She mentioned how it had helped her structure her goals and objectives on a monthly, weekly, and daily basis, so I quickly ordered it and soon after (thanks, Amazon), it arrived. Unfortunately, this was right at the time of major upheaval in my life, leaving the journal untouched until late May, but when I finally did sit down and focus on it, I came up with 3 overarching goals: 1) to be more whole-hearted in the way I express myself; 2) to live more harmoniously with all that surrounds me; and 3) to discover more connections through exploration of the unconscious. Each goal was paired with actions and tasks to help frame the 13-week exercise, and I assigned the threads of my web (Fearlessness, Maturity, Sensuality, Joyfulness, Confidence, Peacefulness, and Integrity) as the weekly themes, doubling up on each outside of Integrity, which is my Week 13 theme. It was in Week 2 (Maturity Part I), that I began tracking my addictive behaviors in the calendar, tallying each time I was focused on satisfying my body versus my soul. At first, it felt like I was shaming myself for not being perfect, which was not the intended effect; however, I kept it up only to discover that when my self-esteem was lacking, particularly when I'm trying to escape from confronting a deeply-rooted fear, my addictive behavior kicks into high gear. Little by little, I was figuring out all my triggers and developing ways to stay balanced through them.
For example, in Week 4 (Joyfulness Part I), I was at the nearby park watching the sunrise when it shined on me to be present much like I was at school, looking to each moment as an opportunity to learn something new about myself and the world around me. Remember when attendance was called at the beginning of the day? Students would raise their hands and say "Here." From this, I considered a new mantra to help me overcome my self-destructive tendencies: I'm here. Simple, I realize, but effective in that it is riddled with meaning. Not only does it speak toward the physical nature of my being (I'm here, alive and well) but also the divine spark I feel within; no matter the chaos occurring on the outside, my integrated center resides within, helping me detach from any desperate seeking externally. Eknath offers up a resounding "Yes" by sharing that "The mantram has immense power to slow down the speed of the mind and lift its attention from any problem that is troubling us...when your mind is beginning to race---beginning to get angry, to get afraid, to get greedy---you are entering a danger zone where you need some kind of power brake to get your mind under control...The mantram gives us a way to regain our natural energy, confidence, and balance" (159; 160). Of course, putting this into practice takes some time, but when I combined my mantra repetition with regular meditation (which Eknath believes to be the "foundation of that deep inner peace for which every one of us longs"), I gained access to a new level of self belief and acceptance; I was ready to confront my chaos by skydiving.
It was the beginning of Week 6 (Peacefulness Part I) that I booked my skydiving experience, scheduling it for Week 7 (Fearlessness Part II). My goal: don't get weighed down thinking about the jump by practicing your mantra and meditation. It lasted about 3 days, but as the confrontation with chaos grew closer, my anxiety spiked, sending my self-esteem into a downward spiral and plummeting me into addictive behavior instead. It wasn't a total crash, though; I continued to write my thoughts and feelings down and recognized the patterns in behavior though I felt powerless in the moment to stop. In my former life, I would have most definitely flaked out, but thanks to my daily practice, I didn't try to escape when the big day arrived. That morning, I returned back to my routine of journaling and meditating, taking time to repeat my mantra whenever I felt my heart rate increasing. Then, before I could say "No," I was up in the air looking down at the ground that was moving further away. My tandem partner gave me the "3-2-1" countdown from the edge of the plane, and then I was floating through the sky...defying gravity. Yes, when the parachute opened, I felt like I was going to throw up as we slowly descended. It could have been caused by the adrenaline and lack of food in my stomach (I was afraid to eat anything that morning). Or, it could have been the culmination of so many emotions rushing through me as I considered what I had accomplished. Regardless, I reminded myself "I'm here" and landed safely (and cleanly).
It wasn't until later in the week that I recognized what I had accomplished by conquering my fears in such a way. In the meantime, addictive behavior returned with a vengeance as I struggled to comprehend how the experience made me feel overall. Was this how I had to conquer all my fears now? By jumping out of planes? Self-esteem is a tricky thing...once you think you have it figured out, you will be tested in a way that makes you question if you ever had it in the first place. Again, I attribute my rebalancing to my daily reflection (journaling, meditation, mantra repetition). It was through this practice that I figured out how my threads work together to catch me when I fall. I intend to confront more of my chaos the rest of this year (and beyond); when I weave together the maturity to overcome my dips in self-esteem, I grow more sensual, joyful, confident, and peaceful. I live my integrity. Or, as Eknath puts it, "I am an immortal being with a million interconnections with all of life. This is our greatness, to be connected with everything on earth. And when we discover this, the Buddha says, we go beyond all sorrow" (168). So, are you ready to come out of hiding behind "No" and take a leap of faith?