.twin incarnations.
so my therapist gave me this artcle in immedate response to me telling her that i hate myself because i can't fnd somethng that i'm good at, that i like. she's the kind of wiry, graying jewsh woman that i'm surprised to see in portland. she rides her bike to work in sellwood, but the wide arc of her nose points to brooklyn.
the article makes a case against self-evaluation, arguing that the flip side of self-esteem is self-disdain. if we earn self-esteem through accomplishments, then we despise ourselves for our failures. judging our self-worth by our achievements makes us so fearful of failure (because failure to accomplish a goal equates to feeling like total shit about ourselves) that we stop trying.
it all stings of truth, but at the same time makes me resistant and angry. the article suggests that we stop evaluating ourselves on the basis of our accomplishments. my immediate reaction is: then what drives achievment, if not the desire to feel good about oneself for achievng? why make art, if not for glory? why work hard, if not for greatness?
i genuinely can't fathom what it would be like in my head with out constant self-evaluation. that appears to be the very problem that drives me to therapy in the first place, but i would not be who i am wthout it. i would be dissarmed of witty dinner conversation and self-depricating humor. i'd never get a laugh at happy hour again.
i attempted to evaluate, as the article urged, my actions empirically, based on their effectiveness and not as a reflection of my whole person: i tried to hang a painting. i measured and made tiny pencil x's on the wall. i used a level and a yard stick. i used nails designed to hold ten pounds each, and i hoisted the painting over my head and onto two proud hooks. for the half-second it remained mounted on the wall, i felt good. and, in keeping with this experiment, i told a different story to myself: i effectively achieved the task of hanging the painting. i felt pleased with myself nonetheless.
when the painting tore away from the nails and fell, with a weighty bang, to the floor at the edge of my toes, i did not think to myself: "i did not do an effectve job of hanging that paintng." i thought, "fuck shit damn. can't i do anything right?"
i am not doing a very effective job of incorporating that article into my thoughts. but see, i'm practicing.
the article makes a case against self-evaluation, arguing that the flip side of self-esteem is self-disdain. if we earn self-esteem through accomplishments, then we despise ourselves for our failures. judging our self-worth by our achievements makes us so fearful of failure (because failure to accomplish a goal equates to feeling like total shit about ourselves) that we stop trying.
it all stings of truth, but at the same time makes me resistant and angry. the article suggests that we stop evaluating ourselves on the basis of our accomplishments. my immediate reaction is: then what drives achievment, if not the desire to feel good about oneself for achievng? why make art, if not for glory? why work hard, if not for greatness?
i genuinely can't fathom what it would be like in my head with out constant self-evaluation. that appears to be the very problem that drives me to therapy in the first place, but i would not be who i am wthout it. i would be dissarmed of witty dinner conversation and self-depricating humor. i'd never get a laugh at happy hour again.
i attempted to evaluate, as the article urged, my actions empirically, based on their effectiveness and not as a reflection of my whole person: i tried to hang a painting. i measured and made tiny pencil x's on the wall. i used a level and a yard stick. i used nails designed to hold ten pounds each, and i hoisted the painting over my head and onto two proud hooks. for the half-second it remained mounted on the wall, i felt good. and, in keeping with this experiment, i told a different story to myself: i effectively achieved the task of hanging the painting. i felt pleased with myself nonetheless.
when the painting tore away from the nails and fell, with a weighty bang, to the floor at the edge of my toes, i did not think to myself: "i did not do an effectve job of hanging that paintng." i thought, "fuck shit damn. can't i do anything right?"
i am not doing a very effective job of incorporating that article into my thoughts. but see, i'm practicing.
posted by .i'll never tell. at 9:34 PM
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