On me... and turning 30

It’s funny, if you ask some people who have really gotten to know me intimately they’ll tell you that I have several different personalities. These people have at times asked me who is the “real” Vanessa. I can tell you straight out that ALL of them are. If you’d met me some years ago and asked me to list the things that to me are the most important in life I would have told you: family, love, expression, enjoyment, spirituality, and work. If you met me at another point in my life I would have answered exactly the same thing – but in a different order! That is where my “inconsistencies” lie, but actually I am just very average J

The self-hating years

The single most hurtful thing ever said to me was “you’ve had a perfect life”. Yeah, it was hurtful because it was said by someone close to me who obviously didn’t know me much at all. I don’t believe there are such things as perfect lives or perfect childhoods, everyone does the best with what they’re given. I don’t know if I am (or was?) autistic to a degree, but I never really connected with anyone as a child. And it didn’t bother me to have no friends; I was quite happy in my own inner world, my make-believe play, and reading books to learn something that interested me. At age 10 I was faced with circumstances that are actually very common in most cultures but that I would never wish upon anyone. As a result of this I lost the ability to trust, to believe, to feel safe and worthwhile. From then on I started hating more than just my own physical self, but also my future self, believing that I deserved nothing good to ever come to me in my life. It was very draining, and my inner world grew increasingly darker and I became more and more self-deprecating.

At about the age of 20, after I had finished my undergraduate degree in science, the self-loathing and self-denial of my own need to be human finally climaxed. I started psychotherapy for the first time then. What came of it? My single greatest victory was to forgive those that had hurt me and to forgive myself for being hurt. It seems so miniscule and meaningless that I can summarise it in one sentence, but the amount of healing the simple act of swapping the words “sorry” for “thank you” is hardly able to be explained. I finally stopped apologising for being Vanessa, for allowing myself as a child to be hurt, and I stopped apologising for the simple fact of being alive. Instead I started to be grateful to be alive and I allowed myself to have (and not feel guilty about having) human needs of personal fulfilment and achievement. It was a very slow process to accept myself, to disrobe myself of the self-loathing, to finally become and be comfortable in being Vanessa in all my forms.

At 24 my curiosity and interest in spiritual matters brought me to commit to Christianity after having studied several theological and philosophical systems for many years. What lead me to finally make this commitment was that I came to understand that it’s ok to not be perfect, it’s human nature, and that the ability to feel connection to God is not barred to me or anyone else regardless of their past, present, or future. That was spiritual commitment and to some extent also fulfilment. During and after this time I also gradually learnt to not hate or feel ashamed of my physical appearance, of my lack of social skills, of my naivety, and of all these things I had for which I felt I couldn’t be like “normal” people. I guess in all this I may have eventually overshot the mark  :P

The self-loving years

I was around 26 before I could bear the thought of being ok with being seeing as me, as a complete and separate person of my own. I guess by that stage I had allowed people to get to know me, all aspects of me, and to become my friends who I could trust and expect some trust and caring in return. I grew more confident in many things also. I finally was not afraid or concerned to be seen for me. I was nearly 27 before I finally allowed myself to remove my clothes off in front of another human being – someone of my choosing and with my full consent. This part was the hardest step for me, the rest was quite easy. And in fact it probably got to be a bit too easy J

My mistake was that after I learnt to love myself, I probably started to love only myself. I started to consider romantic partners as purely things to increase my own enjoyment and happiness. They say that people with histories of abuse most often become either one of two things in their future relationships: the abuser or the abused. I had decided from when I was 20 and started therapy, that I would never again be a victim of abuse. And so here I was, playing out another role. I had never had a time in my life when I didn’t feel guilty about being alive, but maybe at times it would have been good to at least feel pity for others. Needless to say, several  partners later, I still wasn’t a winner. Despite me finally being able to love myself and form sort of bonds with others, I still hadn’t learnt what it was like to love others. I mean, of course, what it was like to be in love.

The loving years

Wait, having sex and making love aren’t the same things?... No. I eventually learnt that too. June 2010, or sometime after that, I fell in love for the first time in my life! How did I know it was different? Because I found myself missing someone else, wanting someone else’s approval, feeling safe and confident to be associated with someone, feeling a part of something very special. It didn’t last long and I was a different kind of sad to what I’d previously known when it ended. But you know what bothered me most about it ending? Because after all those years it had taken me to convince myself that I was a worthy human being, the overwhelming message I was getting was that I wasn’t worthy of another being’s sacrifice to be with me. My partner wouldn’t sacrifice any of the things I would have sacrificed in a heartbeat to be with them. And that hurt me so much. It was like being told all over again that I wasn’t a worthy human being. But this time I didn’t believe it for long, because sometimes all you can do is let go and remember that regardless of what someone may think of me, I am still Vanessa.

And then the unthinkable happened and I fell in love for the second time in my life. Wow! What a blessing it was. It was beyond what I had ever imagined;  my new love met and exceeded every standard I ever had. This was truly the love of my life, the one person you could have sworn was fabricated purely using every guideline for a good person I had in my mind. Words can’t do this story justice. Of course, I was in love with this person so you’d be right in saying I am biased, but I didn’t care what anyone had to say. The only approval I needed in this world was from this one person . Truly, never have I felt so secure, so safe, so myself, so part of something greater than special, than when I was part of this partnership. Then the worst thing happened! The worst thing to have happened to me at this moment in time after what I’ve been through, I mean. There were reasons for it, but I was left alone again. I only wish I had been given a chance to correct my flaws, that whatever good was at first seen in me (what I think I see in myself too) would have been worthy of another chance, of a sacrifice. Or am I really not as worthy as I think I am?

The years of being loved

I hope in future to be loved, but it’s not enough just to be loved here and now. I hope to have someone fall in love with me truly, to want me, to wish to be with me, and that this wish is enough to motivate the things every successful relationship needs: compromise and self-sacrifice. I am worth it, right? I think I am. It’s been 30 years, and I’m ready to be loved the way I eventually learnt to love too. I am ready for so many things. But I am ready mostly to say that only God can judge me for my life.

On labels and self-esteem

I was discussing with a friend of mine one day on how sometimes the worst thing we can do is label ourselves. See, ever since I met my friend she told me she’s a very shy girl – and I guess she is, but it’s not all she is.

Now, the issue of shyness is very close to my heart because I was painfully shy up until the time I started high school. And when I say ‘painfully’, I mean it really did cause me a lot of psychological stress. A lot of people who’ve met me in the last few years would find it hard to believe that I was once a shy person, but anyone from my family could confirm to you how true this is. When I was in primary school (both in Australia and in El Salvador), through every year I progressed, my teachers would speak to my mum to ask why I didn’t interact with any of the other children. I guess the concern was that I was autistic or had some sort of sensory deficit. My mum would explain to them, year after year, that I didn’t have a speech impediment, that I really both understood and spoke the language, and that I could communicate verbally. Academically, I scored at least average grades in classes so at least they didn’t believe I was intellectually impaired, but was always just “something” about me. I knew there was something too, but I knew it was from my extreme shyness. Whenever I did speak, I whispered so that no-one but myself could hear me speak. I was at the same time embarrassed to express myself and embarrassed to be so socially awkward. The solution to this problem was to continue silent.

As I grew older and started high-school I suddenly felt almost compelled to express myself – and in many forms. Some of my classmates whom I’d been to primary school with were absolutely shocked to see me for the first time speak, joke around, and finally have something to contribute verbally. Of course, although it did seem like a magical change in me, I guess I had also just been through puberty and the adolescent psychosocial needs of expression and personal identity were also taking over. I also did not improve in all arenas suddenly, and there are some social spheres I still struggle with, but becoming more self-aware of the problem also enabled me to seek help to improve. As with anyone who speaks of self-improvement will tell you, first you have to believe that you can change (and have the right motivation, and the desire to change, etc. etc.). But therein lies the problem of labelling yourself, because once you label yourself, you adopt the role and you forget that you can change if you’re motivated enough.

We often say "I'm shy" or "I'm depressed" and it's a much heavier statement than saying "I feel anxious in some social situations" or "sometimes I feel very down". The difficulty is that once we label ourselves it becomes a shield to hide behind (and not usually on purpose), that keeps us stagnant. If I start believing that I'm shy (or depressed) and I start describing myself as such, I will start acting like that at all times because that's what I've come to accept is my personality. It's very debilitating to label yourself long-term as anything because it limits your ability to grow. Whereas I could say, “I'm feeling sad right now”, if I say “I'm a depressed person” then I'm not describing a feeling but myself - and human beings don't find it easy to change what is essentially a part of themselves. I think of it as the equivalent as describing your skin colour; that's what our personalities can become if we describe ourselves by our character traits. It becomes as inescapable as our own skin. You soon can't get rid of your "shyness" or your "depression" the same way you can't change your skin. And what's worse is that one day it'll stop bothering us and we'll simply say "I can't and won't be happy because I'm a depressed person" or "I won't meet anyone new because I'm a shy person"...

There’s a speech by Margaret Cho, comedienne, that I’ve included below that describes much better than I ever could the negative consequences of lacking self-esteem, which I guess a big part of shyness is (at least in my experience).

From ‘The Notorious C.H.O.’
I have self-esteem, which is pretty amazing because I am probably someone who wouldn’t necessarily have a lot of self-esteem as I am considered a minority.

And if you are a woman, if you are a person of colour, if you are gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender; if you are a person of size, if you are person of intelligence, if you are a person of integrity – then you are considered a minority in this world! And it's going to be really hard for us to find messages of self-love and support anywhere, especially women’s and gay men’s culture. It’s all about how you have to look a certain way, or else you're worthless. You know, when you look in the mirror and you think, "Ugh, I'm so fat, I'm so old, I’m so ugly"? Don't you know that's not your authentic self? But that is billions upon billions of dollars of advertising. Magazines, movies, billboards, all geared to make you feel shitty about yourself, so that you will take your hard earned money and spend it at the mall on some turn-around cream that doesn't turn around shit.

When you don’t have self-esteem, you will hesitate before you do anything in your life. You will hesitate to go for the job you really want to go for. You will hesitate to ask for a raise. You will hesitate to call yourself an American. You will hesitate to report a rape. You will hesitate to defend yourself when you are discriminated against because of your race, your sexuality, your size, your gender. You will hesitate to vote. You will hesitate to dream.

For us to have self-esteem is truly an act of revolution, and our revolution is long overdue.