Most people I know, including myself, have self-esteem issues. It seems pretty endemic in being a human being–thinking you’re shit, I mean. Of course, it’s to varying degree, and there are outright narcissists who think they’re better than everyone else. But even within that group, many of them need constant praise in order to pump up their flagging self-esteem. That’s not to excuse the narcissism, mind you, but it does help put it in perspective.
I used to be someone who thought so little of myself. I was a complete waste of space and did not deserve to be alive. I remember a Twitter thread from someone who put his friends on blast for saying it was difficult to deal with someone with depression. He ranted about how hard it was to be that person and how very dare they? But, as someone who had both had low self-esteem/ depression and dealt with people who’ve had either or both, his friends are not wrong. Yes, it’s hard to be someone who has depression and low self-esteem. It deosn’t mean that it’s not hard to be the friend of someone who is that depressed person.
On Ask A Manager, I was reading an old post about a manager who had an employee who needed constant reassurarnce. It only got worse when he got a promotion until he wast starting every conversation apologizing or agoniziing over how terrible he was. It didn’t matter how much reassurance the manager (letter writer) gave. Her employee was convinced he was terrible and was going to be/should be fired.
As counterintuitive as this might sound, constant reassurance to a person like this makes the problem worse. It’s like an addiction. Any hit will be a temporary relief, but it won’t get to the root of the problem. In this case, the low self-esteem. The bottom line is that there is no way to reassure someone that they are worthwhile because it’s an inner problem–not an outer one.
Back to the Twitter guy. He wanted his friends to keep asking him to go out, even though he would not respond. Not just to the invites, but at all. For weeks. And he expected them to be ok with that. Now. If they were healthy people who understood mental health issues without having any of their own, they might be willing to frogive you for going incommunicado for weeks at time. Or if they didn’t really care about you and were fine with you dropping in and out of your life.
But, if they’re a good friend, they will be rightfully perturbed if you simply disappear for weeks at a time. I mean, they care about you. They know you have mental health issues. Of course they’re going to be worried when you just withdraw into yourself. but according to this Twitter guy, that’s secondary to his immense pain. I’m not trying to be a jerk to him, but I just had to push back on his premise.
Here’s the thing. Having a low self-esteem is just another way to be a narcissist. I say this as someone who was there for decades. “Everyone hates me.” “I’m worthless.” “That person must think I’m a jerk/dog shit/hopeless.” It’s a way of turning everything into being about me. Here’s the truth. And yes, it’s brutally harsh. No one cares as much about you and what you do as you do. Because we are all the main actor on our own stage.
In addition, by constantly rebuffing reassurance, you’re basically telling the other person you don’t trust what they are telling you. If they say they’re not pissed off with you and you say they must be, you’re not taking them at their word. If you say they must hate you, there’s nothing they can do to make you feel better about yourself. And it’s exhausting to have to constantly reassure someone that you love them. It just is.
I can feel compassion for someone with low self-esteem while also not wanting to have to constantly tell them how great they are. These two things are not mutually exclusive. That’s what many of the comments on the post said, too. Many felt empathy for the employee, but also for the letter writer. More than one person pointed out that the employee’s coworkers probably were sick of his shit, too.
I certainly would be. Even when I was caught in the throes of this kind of feeling, I kept it mostly to myself because I realized taht it wasn’t something I wanted to pour all over other people. I have one friend who does not and never has had a low self-esteem. She told me she has never said it to anyone because she knew how it sounded. It fascinates me becuse I don’t know anyone else who didn’t have ayn issues with self-esteem. It wasn’t that she thought she was better than everyone else, but that she didn’t think she was worthless.
Which is great! Everyone should know their worth. But it’s fascinating to me because I used to be mired in that shit. Ever since I died twice, it’s been radically different. My depression is about 90% gone whereas my anxiety is 65% gone. In other words, I’m so much better than I have ever been. I love my body (which is bizarre because I’ve hated it all my life), and even before that, I made a decision not to talk about my body dysmorphia. I hate that women are supposed to bond over hating their bodies.
Even when I hated my body, I kept it mostly to myself. I didn’t talk about how terrible my fat gut was or how thunderous were my thighs. I didn’t make a face of disgust while moaning about how difficult it was to find clothing that fit. Which, by the way, it was. Clothing is such a scam. And so fraught with issues. Even when I was anorexic, I hated clothing shopping. Especially jeans. I remmeber going to Target with my boyfirend at the time. I was a size 0 to 11, depending on the brand. My boyfriend got four or five pairs of whatever his inseam was and waited as I tried on dozens of pairs in various sizes until I gave up in disgust.
That was the last time I shopped for jeans. I have not worn them since. That was roughly two decades ago.
I love my body now. It brought me back from death–twice. You can’t say shit to me about my body because I will fight you. I love myself for the same reason. I’m still here! That has to count for something, right? It certainly does–at least in my heart.