Project Self Esteem: List 43 things that I like about myself.

I’ve always been obsessed with makeup. When I was a little girl someone gave me some Crayon Girl peel-off nail varnish, and a powder blue eyeshadow stick, and that was me hooked. Every occasion that I could get away with it, I was larding my face in whatever makeup I could get hold of. Looking back on it, much of this interest stemmed from a desperate hatred of my natural looks and a desire to get as far away from them as possible. In fact, I distinctly remember that for my first date with my first boyfriend, I plastered on three thick layers of foundation, firm in the belief that if he saw what I actually looked like he would be sickened and call the whole thing off. Earlier in my teens, non-uniform days at school were an excuse to clart myself in the heaviest, gaudiest and most fashionable colours I could (an abundance of Rimmel shimmery pale pink highlighter springs to mind), in an attempt to prove to my classmates that I wasn’t a nerd (which I was).

But it’s served me well, because these days I wield lipstick, powder and paint with creativity and confidence. I take great delight in changing my look every day depending on how I feel, and now that I feel happier with the canvas of my face, I’m more able to treat it as an art project than a cover-up job. I’m fascinated with trying different colours and techniques, and I love talking about makeup with other people and watching Youtube videos for ideas. I can enhance my natural features and make myself look awake when I’ve had no sleep, or I can competently recreate classic makeup looks, like the Liza-in-Cabaret look I sported on Halloween. I know what I’m doing, and I like it.

I was on the phone to my brother earlier, explaining my dilemma about uni and my decision not to do things for the sole reason that I’m good at them. He said “Not to big you up too much, Abs, but if you did everything you were good at just because you were good at them, you’d have to do everything, because you’re the type of person who can do pretty much everything well if you set your mind to it.”

Notwithstanding that it was a really sweet thing to say, he’s right. I’m a jack of all trades, master of many.

Although when my mind is in bits, I’m not the most fluent or cohesive writer in the world, when I am in flow and know just what I want to say, I can write beautifully, with an engaging tone and a snappy turn of phrase.

..and often pretty stylish. I spent many years hiding myself in black, ripped, baggy clothes that expressed self-hatred and depression. Now I wear bright, fun clothes, and lots of girlie dresses and accessories to express that express the personality I have now. I used to think that the outside didn’t matter, and it turned out I was wrong, but not in the way I expected – the outside matters in that it both reflects and affects the way you feel. Even on days when I feel miserable, tired or fat, pulling on a pretty dress will help me feel better faster and more effectively than punishing myself and languishing in old tracky bottoms.

Apparently, this is a big deal!

I didn’t realise for a very long time that cooking is a skill that eludes many. I still have trouble comprehending that some people can’t tell their asparagus from their elbow. I don’t recall anyone specifically teaching me to do it. I don’t count the useless school home-ec classes where they taught you to make blancmange and rock cakes, but it’s something that I’ve always been able to do, so I suppose I must have learned by osmosis from hanging out in the kitchen with my mum, who is an accomplished and fearless cook.

Fearlessness is, I think, the key, and fear is what holds many people back from cooking – they think of it as some kind of alchemy. But really, there’s no magic to it, just a few basic skills, and knowing this is what enables me to charge ahead and try things without it even occurring to me that they might be outside of my capabilities. I’ve happily, cheaply and healthily fed myself and assorted flatmates for the best part of 17 years now, and my repertoire and confidence in my abilities are both still growing exponentially.

_{Thanks for the shove, Calypte, and to everyone on the thread where they told me this was worth putting on the list!}

..having discussed it at great length with everyone on another entry. They were right, “100 things that are indisputably ace about me” sets the bar too high both in terms of number and of, er, aceness. Not that I’m not capable of having 100 indisputably ace things about me, but turtle steps, right?

I just received this timely quote of the day from her in my inbox.

“Right now, say it out loud: ‘I’m so proud of myself.’ The rush of strength and expansiveness that comes from declaring this honestly is the antidote to paralysis and the beginning of wonderful adventures, and each time you choose that, instead of shame, you really should be proud.“

Say it with me, kids – I’m so proud of myself!

Every time I think of something about me that might be considered ace, my brain automatically starts giving me reasons why it could be considered shit.

Possibly the quality that defined me more than any other for at least half of my life, I am smart and pretty good at passing exams. When I was a nipper, they thought about putting me into the next class up because I’d outstripped everyone else and was making them look bad.

I, and many of the people around me, have always taken my intelligence for granted – excelling academically was always expected of me. So it’s something I have trouble giving myself credit for, and I don’t always work all that hard – the curse of the gifted child is the ability to coast and get by. Perhaps my academic ability hasn’t served me as well as it might have done, and perhaps I haven’t made the best use of it. But I have plenty of it, should I need to call upon it, and I should be proud of that.

Sitting in her office last week, she asked me to list things I liked about myself. It’s Self Esteem 101, and to my horror, I clammed up. It’s not only that the list of things I like about myself has shrunk drastically over the past year, I feel so worthless at the moment that to draw attention to myself feels uncomfortable. I immediately started discounting all my “natural” talents as unworthy because I haven’t “worked at them”. It was Abs circa 2001, pre-CBT and sick in the head with cognitive distortions.

Suddenly, to list things I do like about myself feels somehow wrong, like bragging. Like there’s something wrong* with bragging. What on earth has happened to me? I used to love bragging. I used to love me.

Now I don’t know which is the real me. It’s very strange and bloody horrible.

Anyway, I’m going to try to list one a day (time, energy etc permitting) and try to expand on each one a little until I feel more OK about feeling OK about myself.