Listening to the lyrics of Pink’s song “F.. ing Perfect” reminds me so much of my personal mission to say nice things to myself. I think she said it so well which only affirms that I am not alone in my quest.
What is it about us, women in particular, that we do such harm to ourselves by doubting our very existence and the importance thereof? Why don’t we see how we matter? Why do we consider ourselves so insignificant? We are we the worst judges of ourselves? Why are we so mean?
I did a recent search on Lyrics.com to see how many men and women wrote about this issue. I was overwhelmed at the response. Over 2000 song popped up, obviously too many to read or review but the actual response was astounding. Writers write what they feel (no duh). The number of songs that reflected the imperfect aspect of who we are as individuals and the personal dissatisfaction of who we were was written predominately by women. This is not to say that there aren’t men who feel the same way; I know this is true but the number of women who feel less than adequate about who they are is mind boggling.
In my own personal journey, I am finding some success at defending myself against my own mental fortress mostly through the eyes of friends and family but this societal mirror is not the best measure for repealing years of derogatory defamation by own head. It is only through the actual retraining of my thinking that I am finding my minimal but steady success.
When I consciously hear the negative thoughts enter my mind; I have learned to stop and think about what I am saying to myself before going on. This takes great fortitude but the results are dazzling. I am starting to recognize the false voice that automatically comes out of my head and replace it with the voice of logic and truth instead.
Case in point: when I encountered several negative situations that are rather serious this week alone, my response was to plan, act on this plan, and admire the results, which I might add, were very satisfying. My personal calmness was a tribute to my newfound skill. My persistence in identifying the miscues offered by my brain was met with a conscious appreciation for dealing with something that could have paralyzed me in other times.
What I have found is that retraining yourself is difficult and at times feels nearly impossible. In reality, it is a matter of practice and taking each issue one at a time (when possible) and stopping to admire the small moments of success that I feel.
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