Forever Addicted to Humble Pie
For me, the fine line between a lack of self confidence and a humble attitude has been a difficult one to walk. I have never been good at accepting compliments — I’d like to think this is just called “grace,” but it also stems from an anxious shyness that will most likely be a forever battle. That’s not to say I’m not an extrovert in numerous ways: I am the Type A, overly-excited, often-enthused one in my relationship; I am friendly; I am inquisitive and curious to a fault. I am also a journalist; a knowledge seeker; sometimes a know-it-all.
I’ve taken the personality tests. I’m always an eclectic mix between introvert and extrovert. I crave attention at times, but I can just as easily spend hours on end alone in my room entertaining myself. Sometimes I’m full of much too many words and far too many questions. Sometimes I can’t think of anything to say at all.
Accepting that I am more than good enough is something I’ve struggled with for my whole life. It comes from being prone to anxiety and perfectionist tendencies. It also comes from growing up with medical problems. It’s been a weird web of praise and scolding from authority. While I had a number or supportive educators growing up in the public school system, I had an equal amount of administrators who told me I would never graduate and would never be able to “make it” or build a “normal” life for myself. I met this cacophony of opposing attitudes with defiance and gumption. I also met it with a lot of tears, a lot of panic attacks, and a lot of self esteem issues.
After graduating high school with both a 4.000 and more than 200 absences, self esteem was easier to muster. Sometimes. When I’m faced with adversity — which, trust me…it’s in college, too — I tend to rise to the occasion. I can stick up for myself. I can fight. I can articulate my feelings and emotions and I can usually claim victory over the social struggles that come with having a disability. I fight the good fight and feel good about myself in the end. Because I feel like I’ve earned it. Like I’ve paid my dues.
Praise, on the other hand, is sometimes crippling. Not when it comes from my mom or dad or family or my boyfriend. That’s easy praise. It’s expected. I can handle that. I can drink it up and soak it in and become lighter and brighter because of it. I can use that praise as fuel without feeling undeserving.
But praise from my peers or professors or strangers? That’s hard. It’s unexpected. It’s an attempt to get under this thick skin I’ve grown. Praise from authority or people who don’t…you know…have to love me? When I don’t have to fight for that praise? That’s scary. Because it blurs that line between being humble and being confident. It blurs the line of being tough and vulnerable. If I don’t have to earn it — you know, by fighting for it — that stops me in my tracks. It makes me feel like I have to bake myself a humble pie and stuff my face with it as fast as I can.
Today was a big day for praise. I received several emails from one of my professors complimenting me on the work I’ve done. How good of a writer I am. How raw and honest and beautiful. No criticism. Just praise. Email upon email of praise. Three of them. In one day. I thought I’d gotten past this whole, “Oh, me? I don’t deserve this! Little old me?!” thing. Guess not. In my email back, I was eating piece after piece after piece of humble pie. Being vulnerable is hard. Harder than sticking up for yourself. For me, anyway. It makes me squirm and blush and feel figuratively naked.
But it shouldn’t be that way. You can remain humble while accepting some love — self love and self confidence is OK. We shouldn’t always have to earn it — sometimes you just deserve it without any strings attached or dues to pay. Learning that continues to be a journey for me. For everyone. Or for the people that truly deserve the compliments they are paid, I think. And because of all this, I’m going on a humble pie-less diet. Because maybe I’ve earned it. And maybe you have, too.
I’ve taken the personality tests. I’m always an eclectic mix between introvert and extrovert. I crave attention at times, but I can just as easily spend hours on end alone in my room entertaining myself. Sometimes I’m full of much too many words and far too many questions. Sometimes I can’t think of anything to say at all.
Accepting that I am more than good enough is something I’ve struggled with for my whole life. It comes from being prone to anxiety and perfectionist tendencies. It also comes from growing up with medical problems. It’s been a weird web of praise and scolding from authority. While I had a number or supportive educators growing up in the public school system, I had an equal amount of administrators who told me I would never graduate and would never be able to “make it” or build a “normal” life for myself. I met this cacophony of opposing attitudes with defiance and gumption. I also met it with a lot of tears, a lot of panic attacks, and a lot of self esteem issues.
After graduating high school with both a 4.000 and more than 200 absences, self esteem was easier to muster. Sometimes. When I’m faced with adversity — which, trust me…it’s in college, too — I tend to rise to the occasion. I can stick up for myself. I can fight. I can articulate my feelings and emotions and I can usually claim victory over the social struggles that come with having a disability. I fight the good fight and feel good about myself in the end. Because I feel like I’ve earned it. Like I’ve paid my dues.
Praise, on the other hand, is sometimes crippling. Not when it comes from my mom or dad or family or my boyfriend. That’s easy praise. It’s expected. I can handle that. I can drink it up and soak it in and become lighter and brighter because of it. I can use that praise as fuel without feeling undeserving.
But praise from my peers or professors or strangers? That’s hard. It’s unexpected. It’s an attempt to get under this thick skin I’ve grown. Praise from authority or people who don’t…you know…have to love me? When I don’t have to fight for that praise? That’s scary. Because it blurs that line between being humble and being confident. It blurs the line of being tough and vulnerable. If I don’t have to earn it — you know, by fighting for it — that stops me in my tracks. It makes me feel like I have to bake myself a humble pie and stuff my face with it as fast as I can.
Today was a big day for praise. I received several emails from one of my professors complimenting me on the work I’ve done. How good of a writer I am. How raw and honest and beautiful. No criticism. Just praise. Email upon email of praise. Three of them. In one day. I thought I’d gotten past this whole, “Oh, me? I don’t deserve this! Little old me?!” thing. Guess not. In my email back, I was eating piece after piece after piece of humble pie. Being vulnerable is hard. Harder than sticking up for yourself. For me, anyway. It makes me squirm and blush and feel figuratively naked.
But it shouldn’t be that way. You can remain humble while accepting some love — self love and self confidence is OK. We shouldn’t always have to earn it — sometimes you just deserve it without any strings attached or dues to pay. Learning that continues to be a journey for me. For everyone. Or for the people that truly deserve the compliments they are paid, I think. And because of all this, I’m going on a humble pie-less diet. Because maybe I’ve earned it. And maybe you have, too.
Do you struggle with an addiction to humble pie? How do you curve the cravings?
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