Many times in life
we find we surround ourselves with the same types of people. We befriend the
same friend over and over in different forms and different names. Sometimes
it’s the same love interest, just better looking or not, but the same type of
person. Occasionally, though, you have a truly unique experience. My friend Amy
was that unique friend for me. Unlike all my other friends she didn’t need me
to help her or council her. She wasn’t poorer than I or from a broken home or
had suffered abuse. She wasn’t someone who called to my “Super Saver-Girl,” the
girl inside me who just needs to save everyone, because it made me feel good
about myself. At our respective tender ages of thirteen and fourteen, Amy had
something I didn’t. I learned more from her about it then anywhere else. Amy
had self-esteem.
She had a great home,
great parents, the right clothes, the best shoes, the prettiest perfume, and
expensive everything. She wasn’t gorgeous or even particularly pretty. She had
blonde, kind of fried, frizzy hair, and wore tons of makeup. She was a bit of a
thick chic; she wasn’t the Barbie doll that everyone expected popular girls to
be in the late 80’s to early 90’s. Yet, she was popular. In fact there were
times when I marveled at her seeming self-esteem because I just couldn’t see it
myself. Of course, I was her best friend so I saw her best and worst. Amy could
be unfailingly generous, warm, funny, and bright. She could be completely
self-absorbed, bitchy, mean, and ditzy. Who you met depended on how long she
had known you and what she thought she needed from you. I knew her failings. I
knew her weaknesses. I knew she often put others down or made fun of them to
feel better about herself. I could see all her bad and loved her anyway. She
was redeemable and really a wonderful person if she let you in her heart.
You might look at those
things and wonder how anyone could think she had self-esteem. The fact is, it
took you awhile to get to know her. Her behavior made it take even longer to
discover she was actually just as insecure as any normal teenager. This was
tempered by her confidence in almost any situation. When she looked in a mirror,
she only saw the best parts of herself. She knew her own weaknesses and she hid
them well while playing up her assets. Once we met, we became fast friends. We
spent the next seven years of our lives at each other’s side. Early on I
noticed the way Amy dealt with people. She always made them feel that they were
the center of her world at that moment. Yet, made them feel like they wanted to
make her the center of their world. People wanted to tell her everything.
People liked her. People wanted her to like them. People complimented her all
the time.
One lesson I learned from
Amy was how to take a compliment. It can grow your self-esteem every time you
receive a compliment. Does anyone want to compliment someone who turns the
admiration aside every time? When someone would compliment Amy she had this
truly amazing response. It was revolutionary to me, a young chubby chic, to see
this even younger chubby chic accept compliments without batting an eye. She
never acted like the person complimenting her was insane. Amy always smiled
sweetly, touched their arm when it was appropriate and said, “Thank you”. All
the while conveying a sense that she was truly, humbly, touched by the
compliment, yet completely expected it, as was her due. She behaved like a
royal princess, but a really well liked one almost all the time in front of new
people or mere acquaintances.
When someone complimented me
I might say, “Thank you” because I was taught to. More often then not I would
play it off that it wasn’t “me,” it was my new sweater or my nice makeup. Never
did I accept a compliment simply because I deserved it. When I walked into a
room I usually needed to know there were people there I knew. I would feel
uncomfortable and uncertain. If I could I would have a friend with me when I
arrived so I wouldn’t be so conspicuous. I couldn’t put myself forward in many
situations. I couldn’t conceive of myself as being anything worth admiring.
What I saw in the mirror was not what I thought was worthy of much at all. I
had no model for how to accept a compliment with grace and poise as Amy could.
Or to walk into a room like I owned it, like she did.
Amy’s mother was
much the same way as Amy. I am still not certain if it was just a part of their
southern culture, the debutant balls and Charm School diplomas, or just an
inherent part of who they were and who raised them. I suspect it was a bit of
both, because even Amy’s grandmother’s had the same demeanor when it came to
being complimented. My mother, who had very low self-esteem, on the other hand,
raised me. She is much like I was, always looking for someone else to confirm
her worth. She has never had any idea of her own worth. How could she? Her
father was an abusive alcoholic and her mother disappeared off the face of the
earth when she was only nineteen. Her whole childhood set her up to be very
insecure. Subsequently, in spite of an awesome childhood I grew up just as
insecure.
As I passed through my teen
years with Amy and watched her in every situation, I learned how to accept a
compliment. I learned how to walk with confidence into any room regardless of
my own nervousness. I learned that no matter what other people thought of me
when they saw me, the only opinion that really mattered (for ill or for good)
was my own. I learned to “fake it” until I “made it” into some semblance of
self-esteem. It is a fact that the more you hear compliments, the more you
believe them, and the more they are true.
You can see an example of
that in my friendship with a guy named Scott. We were both in our mid 20’s.
That time in one’s life when fun and flirtation are almost always the order of
the day. Scott complimented me all the time when he saw me. One night, a bit
drunk, but having a good time he leaned over and complimented me yet again. He
then told me I even had cute ears. That time I believe I actually wrinkled my
nose, but said, “Thank you” as I had learned. He said, “No seriously! I just
like to compliment you; because you always give me that gorgeous smile and
don’t tell me I’m a liar or crazy. Who wants to compliment someone when they
refuse to believe you?” That was the epitome of my friendly boost from Amy
right there. I had learned to be complimented. Now I believe (almost) every one
of them. I have a real amount of self-esteem. I owe it all to watching a
not-so-pretty, not-so-perfect, slightly insecure teenager act as if nothing and
no one ever bothered her. She deserved the compliments and popularity that came
her way.
As I came through my
twenties, and into my thirties I developed a very strong sense of who I am, who
I have always been, by taking to heart the good comments about me. I have made
it a point to never listen to the bad. I have faced some trying situations in
those intervening years. An abusive marriage, being a single mom, and now going
back to school! My strong sense of self has withstood these tests. I am
stronger for having endured them. I still know who I am.
I use this story often to teach young ladies I
come across about their own self-esteem. Most of the time I doubt it sinks in.
This last year I got re-acquainted with a young woman who, in her teen years
heard my story and lecture more than once. Oh, her self-image is still very
realistic, but not negatively so. She has confidence and poise she didn’t have
when she was a teenager. I heard her cite the same lessons in a class at our
church just a few weeks ago. Talking about how she wants to pass them on to her
daughters. When she was done, she smiled at me and said, “Thank you.” She
learned these lessons and is passing them on. What greater compliment to myself
and to my friend Amy?
When I first realized how
important my own self-esteem would be in raising a daughter with self-esteem, I
could only be thankful to Amy. I am thankful for having the friendship we had.
I am beyond blessed that I had that foundation so young. So many women don’t
have that. They may develop it as they become older and wiser, but not until
after they have raised their daughters. They have already affected their
daughter’s foundation of self worth. I
get to pass on these lessons, the poise, and the ability to walk confidently
and be happy with who I am onto my daughter. I can’t express how much that
means to me. I see who I am in the mirror everyday. I like myself. I like who I
am. What I look like is a direct result of my choices, good and bad. I am
teaching my daughter to be able to say the same.
I only wish I could
introduce my daughter to my friend. Sadly, Amy is lost to me now. Many years
ago she moved south. We kept in contact until a few years ago. At that time she
began to face her own extreme difficulties and has refused contact with all of
her old friends. I wish she could see how important the person she was back
then is to me. How her young life will affect other young women in my future if
I have anything to say about it. Someday, I will get to tell my daughter all
about mommy’s crazy friend Amy and all the crazy things we did as teenagers. I
look forward to the day when I can tell her how I learned to love myself, no
matter what.
Shock: "What in God's name just happened?"
Denial: "This is NOT happening."
Isolation: "I just want to sit in this all by myself."
Anger: "I hate you/myself for ... "
Bargaining: "What will it take to get him/her back?" 
Depression: "I will never get over him/her."
Acceptance: "I understand why I was with him/her, why I'm not now, and that I will be better than just OK."
You
know how sometimes people say women say one thing but mean another?
Well, that's totally true. For women and men, but I can only really
speak for women because I am one. One subject that is often difficult to
be totally and completely upfront about is sex. And I
mean whether you are a woman having sex with a new lover or sex with
your husband of 3,987 years (or maybe it just feels that long). We kind
of have a one size fits all phrase for when we don't want to have sex.
Perhaps you've heard it before? "I'm just not in the mood."
