Forgive me while I go on a little journey with my thoughts here. No doubt this’ll be a little confusing but bear with me.
Interesting isn’t it…
It seems like now days we live in a world where everyone feels worthless or depressed unless there is constant praise flung in their direction. It seems that if we’re not gumming up some social media site with “selfies” or constant status updates telling everyone how “great” we are we all lose our minds.
I’ve lived pretty much in a sheltered bubble most of my life. One that’s been quite devoid of close friends and social interactions. And while my parents are “great” in many ways, they have NOT always been the best at giving me encouragement, attention, or praise. In fact, very often I get the opposite from my family and QUITE often, things that happened to me (even things that they had a major hand in) are somehow “my” fault… “This happened to me, and you let it happened and it destroyed me…”
“Well, it’s your fault for thinking about it again…” >_>
But, I’m getting off track a bit.
Point there being, I have never really received much praise.
When I wrote my first novel (Shatter) and my mother read it in a night’s time and brought it back to me crying that she “couldn’t believe that I could write so well”- I must admit that no one was more shocked at her response than me. I had never seen my mother praise me over much of anything… and to be honest, I haven’t really seen her do so again.
My mother has been harping on me to do exercise for over twenty years, and now when I am and I started showing her today some of the things that I was doing (what I can do at this early stage) she glossed right over it with a “ever try this…?” >_>
I think that because of the fact that both my emotional state, and my accomplishments have always been rather “passed over” I have learned a pretty tough lesson in this life. It’s something that I’ve told a few people and have realized recently how true it is… “No matter what I do in this world, I have realized that I am completely alone.”
Even my husband who is close and supportive has aspergers and can not fully support me and encourage me OR understand my emotional state.
Because of this… I think that I’ve developed a mindset in which I take absolutely no pride in myself. This can be good… and at the same time, I can see the downside as well.
I am learning slowly to care for myself again, and I love myself, yes. (So that no one reading misunderstands), but the word “proud” has always made me cringe inside. In fact, there have literally been moments where I have despised it.
I would have to say that I’m bittered to the idea of “pride” and perhaps it is because I have often been made to feel as if I have nothing to be proud for.
The thing is, I know that this will never ever change and quite frankly, I don’t want it to.
earlier today I received a message from a sweet friend who’s only intention was to tell me that she was “proud of my exercise attempts recently” … and I immediately replied with, “I’m not, but thank you.” She replied, “Oh, I thought that you were.” I mindlessly wrote back, “No, I don’t take much pride in anything that I do.”
And I’d rather keep it that way. I know that sounds odd and maybe people don’t understand. I don’t quite know how to explain it myself. But as long as I’m not proud, I can remain in a place of awe, wonder, childlike need, and reliance on God.
When someone tells me that they’re proud of me, however. My blood starts to boil and inwardly I start screaming. “NO! Don’t tell me you’re PROUD. I don’t want to hear it! Save it!”
I think deep down I’m really just angry at my parents for not having shown me more praise… but, now that I’m here (as an adult) I don’t want to hear it from anyone else.
If I accomplish something I want to love myself for it, but remember that it was Christ who got me there. I don’t want to be “proud” …