Last summer, I recall working at my local ice cream shop, sitting and watching the sunset from inside.
What I loved so much about that job was the array of people I met — new moms, hyper fifth graders and sometimes even professional soccer players. But, there’s one specific woman who stood out to me.
One day, she entered the store, and I was immediately intrigued. She had gorgeous, wavy gray hair, funky jewelry and glowy skin. She was kind and got a “surprise me” order. She took her cone, walked out the door and I never saw her again.
Ever since then, I’ve been striving to be like her — so that when I’m sixty-something, I’ll be the cool grandma, the cool lady down the street or the cool lady someone serves at the ice cream parlor.
A few weeks ago, I kept thinking about how cool she seemed — and how uncool I am right now.
Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw a strange-looking 20-year-old girl with no direction and nothing to look forward to. A girl, who, at the end of the day, fell very far from spectacular.
I’ve felt this way about myself for a really long time. Even in the moments where I’ve done something spectacular, I’ve boiled it down to luck, chance or other acts of God.
Recently, that’s been getting in my way big time. I’ve denied myself major opportunities because I genuinely think that I am, well, inadequate. I know a lot of people feel this way. And it’s important to note that I rarely feel this way about others. So why can’t I give that grace to myself?
Part of this eternal struggle comes from the fact that I’ve been telling myself I am not enough for years. I’m not smart enough for this class, I’m not talented enough for this show or I’m not pretty enough for this guy — you get the gist.
I’m the biggest bully on the block, and my favorite victim is myself. I am shaking myself down for lunch money, giving myself swirly-whirlys and leaving myself in the dust.
I keep expecting that someone is going to come save me — that a bystander will become an upstander and magically fix the situation. But unfortunately, in the you-versus-you fight, you have to stand up for yourself. The other day, I rolled my sleeves up and decided that it was time to fight back.
To remedy this situation, I’ve been engaging in some new rituals that are intended to silence the negative noise and replace it with the positive.
Firstl, I have been writing down the things I love about myself. Just by doing that, I’ve realized that I am pretty spectacular. Not because I’m building the next rocket or curing any diseases, but because I am truly myself.
I try to tell myself these things in the mirror now every day. Yes, Sophia, you rock. Work it. I don’t say that exactly, but the same “rah-rah mentality” is how I operate when talking to myself now.
When a punch from the negative side of me tries to sneak in, I try to block it with something positive. If I think my hair looks crazy, I just tell myself that it’s gorgeous. This method of blocking is admittedly a little inspired by my time in therapy, so it’s not a surprise that it works like a charm
These things seem really simple, but they took a lot of effort. The cycle of self-hate is a vicious one, and I’ve realized that breaking away from it takes a lot of work.
Part of the work has also come through having more fun and savoring every moment for what it is. I’ve replaced my Fiona Apple with Mariah Carey — although I will probably keep listening to it — and my doom and gloom sessions with dance parties.
It sounds cringy, but it works wonders.
Now, when I look in the mirror, I see the awesome person that I really am. I’m a twenty-year-old girl with great hair, awesome friends and a good head on my shoulders — and that’s pretty damn special.
In forty years, I’m sure I’ll stroll into an ice cream store and grab a random flavor just because. I might not be the woman I saw at the ice cream store last summer, but I’ll be myself — which is a hundred times better.
