It's All About Me

The persistent grief of self-rejection

I’m guessing that the statement, “It’s all about me” reminds you of every self-centered jerk you ever knew who thought only of themselves, harmed or minimized you in some way, and in general made others miserable. We know how damaging that mindset is both on a personal and a global level.

When the concept is about being self-assured and not selfish, the motivation to put ourselves first completely changes. If we learn at an early age to have empathy for ourselves, receive validation of our worth and understand that we have valuable and unique gifts to give the world, only then can we extend that kind of affirmation to others.

Without this foundation, we end up doing one of two things; we try to extract value from external sources, lashing out when we don’t get it — turn on the news to see this playing out in real time - or we shrink back, robbing the world of our gifts and creating a cycle of shame and the quiet grief of feeling inadequate.

This week I read an account from my friend, Carla Sciaky, a successful multi-instrumentalist-folksinger-songwriter, who wrote eloquently about her struggle with this concept. Despite her many professional successes, it took years for this insight to really take hold in her;

Our intrinsic sense of self-worth, nurtured by embracing all aspects of the unique way we show up in the world, is the only thing that leads to true peace, self-acceptance and happiness.

How have you given away the measure of your worth for the world to decide?

As you read Carla’s story, I hope you are inspired to fully embrace the unique gift you are to the world.

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I wanted so badly to be popular.

By sixth grade it was clear that I wasn’t. I was too sensitive, a smart girl that got good grades, often liked by the teacher because I was too scared to disobey anything they said.

Playing dodge-ball in gym one day, the cutest boy in the class slammed the ball so hard into my thigh it took my breath away and tears welled up in my eyes. As my head spun, I heard the kind voice of some girl in my class whispering in my ear, “Don’t let him see you cry.” So I sucked it up.

I tried to get rid of my freckles, straightened my hair. I got contact lenses. I thought the skin of my legs was too white, so I would sit for hours with my skinny pale limbs begging the sun for a tan, to no avail.

Remember Sally Field at the Oscars? “You like me!” I wanted that recognition, and I coveted the validation of an award to prove it.

So last year, on October 30 when I checked the charts and saw my album was #1 and I was listed as the #1 artist of the week, I had a moment. Yay! Oh my god yay!!

And then I got the real lesson.

It’s not the awards, the compliments, the cool kids giving you fleeting attention.

I saw my name and the name of my album up there at #1 and was shocked to realize I didn’t feel any different. It didn’t change anything! Because I already knew what it took to live and write all those songs, to show up at the studio over and over again for two years, to do all that it took to birth that project and get it out into the world.

And I knew how it felt to have all those collaborating artists turn to me and express their appreciation for what I was pouring in and for what was coming out. Because they knew what it took too. And my heart was open enough to receive the gift of their participation and their praise.

What really counts? Okay, being liked by the cool people is cool for sure. But liking myself is the coolest. Bushy hair, glasses, the wrinkles that replaced most of the freckles, white legs and all, I’m okay. Because I am learning that what counts is on the inside.

It was never the album in my hand. It is who I have become by means of creating it.

Our culture doesn’t really teach us to celebrate ourselves for the things that really matter. There are competitions for everything from dancing to business to athletics.

Truth is, the winners do not feel like winners all the time. And some people who never compete have already won the real prize.