I used to sympathize with Charlie Brown. He never got any lucky breaks. He wasn't talented, smart, or good looking. He wasn't all that well respected even within his small cadre of friends. His dog was a whole lot cooler than he was. And perhaps worst of all, Charlie's gal pal Lucy compulsively sabotaged his repeated attempts at football glory.
Lucy had her own issues, of course. She couldn't bear the thought of Charlie becoming successful. She propped up her fragile self image by holding a friend back from reaching his dreams. If Charlie's great breakthrough is ever to come to pass, he needs first to learn to distance himself from parasitic relationships.
Ziggy, like Charlie Brown, was hapless and routinely upstaged by an endearing pooch. My heart went out to Ziggy - I think everyone felt for the guy - but I never saw myself walking in his shoes.
My attention turned to Mad Magazine with its dry, irreverent look at the ironies and absurdities of life. Classic 'Mad' represented how I viewed the world. To some degree, a dash of biting wit still helps me deal with the unexpected craziness of life.
That said, Charlie Brown, Alfred E. Neuman, Spy vs. Spy, et al. never accurately represented how I felt about myself. Eventually, however, I did stumble across a comic strip with that seemed to describe my inner psyche perfectly. It seems dreadfully pathetic to admit this today, but that strip was called 'The Born Loser'. I identified with that title, profoundly and emphatically.
I don't know how my self esteem ended up in such depths, but it always seemed to be there. I can't blame my family. They did what they could to reassure a routinely despondent lad. Then again, when we're young we're programmed to view the counsel of our relatives with suspicion. Their encouragement isn't necessarily genuine, we reason. We may wonder whether they make supportive comments just because we happen to be related, or because they're stuck with us and they can't tolerate our endless moping for one minute longer.
Yes, 'The Born Loser' was me, and I was his doppelgänger in flesh and blood.
Occasionally, a popular song would come long that expressed swagger and self-confidence. These songs made me feel as though I were living on an alien planet. I couldn't imagine anyone actually feeling that type of bravado. "Those must be the lucky people," I reasoned. "The ones who get picked for school plays and sports teams. The ones who are always smiling and who connect so effortlessly with others." The ones who don't make people cringe when they enter a room. I knew people like that, of course - lots of people. I admired their effortless social skills, I could never picture myself doing what came to them so naturally. I was different. I was shy and reserved and awkward, and that, I thought, would never change.
Maybe that's why I'm an introvert. For so many years, the world didn't seem to have a place for me. Outside of my steadfastly supportive family, I received no indication that I was of any value to anyone. My existence made sense only in the world of my imagination. And in that world is where I spent the bulk of my time - dreaming, learning, creating.
Eventually, at some point in my twenties, I raised my self image out of their dark, cavernous depths and up into the waiting sunlight. The sunlight had always been there, but reaching it was a staggering challenge. I likened the process to the old saying about pulling oneself up by one's bootstraps. In the initial stages, it almost seemed that difficult.
But step by step, as I replaced unhelpful ideas and internal evaluations with newer, more helpful thoughts, I made progress. I found places in the world where I actually seemed to fit - awkwardly at first, but it was a step in the right direction. With each passing month, I inched a bit further. Eventually, the world seemed like a bright and welcoming place, a place full of new possibilities and opportunities. A place where I could thrive with passion and enthusiasm.
But I wonder, how many Charlie Browns and Ziggy's and Born Losers are out there? I'm not unique. Low self esteem is most certainly a widespread problem. Luckily, out of sheer curiosity, I stumbled upon the inspiration that I required. I found my own haphazard path to a brighter future. But is every sufferer of poor self image going to be this fortunate? Can we expect them to find their way forward without guidance?
The ideas and techniques that pulled me out of the shadows weren't secrets. I didn't have to pay a self-appointed sage for advice. Some of the most helpful ideas I found on the shelves of bookstores.
Are these ideas being taught in schools and in corporate training centers? Are they being ministered in places of worship? Blended into the training received by first responders and armed forces personnel? If not, why not?
Why is a person who feels a tenuous connection to the world left to find their own way into that world? Why are we gambling that they'll figure it out some of life's most important lessons on their own? How can we help them to make that transformation more smoothly and efficiently? How can we welcome them into the brighter future that awaits?
Copyright © 2014 Daniel R. South
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