I don’t like pride. I suppose it can be a good thing when it’s a healthy and realistic respect for my own value and accomplishments. But, it easily slides into an unrealistic, arrogant attitude of superiority. In fact, the negative aspects of pride are so strong in my mind (and so prevalent in our society), that I prefer to avoid the word altogether when referring to it’s positive side – I’m not sure what to replace it with – confidence perhaps?
What’s healthy self-esteem? I don’t know. I usually swing back and forth between pride and self-loathing, both of which are narcissistic. My healthiest sense of self probably comes when I’m not thinking about myself at all.
This is where humiliation has been an odd sort of gift. I’m loath to give up my delicately constructed papier-mâché self-image. Then humiliation comes along and painfully strips away the useless façade. At first this process plays into my penchant for self-loathing. I’ll have a good long wallow in the misery, and then hastily begin rebuilding my wounded pride, only to begin the process all over again.
Humility, humiliation, humor, and human have the same root word as humus. Humus = “of the soil, a component derived from decomposed plant and animal remains and excrement”.
Does that mean to be human is to be full of crap?
Not really, although it seems that way at times. In part, to be human is to be a potentiality or a “ground” from which something good (or not) can grow; it depends on what kinds of seeds get planted.
When the weeds and thorns spring up, humiliation pulls them out and throws them on the compost pile where in time, they’ll make good fertilizer to grow something of value.
A sense of humor makes this inevitable and life-giving process a whole lot easier. I don’t think humiliation has to be the horrible nightmarish experience I usually have. What makes the process so excruciatingly painful is my lack of humor and the vice-grip I have on those inadequate self-definitions. Loss of self, even a crappy sense of self, is always at least a little scary.
But, on those rare moments when I can just laugh at the absurdity of it all and let my idols be torn away, a heavy weight is replaced by a great relief.
“Free at last…free at last”!
What’s healthy self-esteem? I don’t know. I usually swing back and forth between pride and self-loathing, both of which are narcissistic. My healthiest sense of self probably comes when I’m not thinking about myself at all.
This is where humiliation has been an odd sort of gift. I’m loath to give up my delicately constructed papier-mâché self-image. Then humiliation comes along and painfully strips away the useless façade. At first this process plays into my penchant for self-loathing. I’ll have a good long wallow in the misery, and then hastily begin rebuilding my wounded pride, only to begin the process all over again.
Humility, humiliation, humor, and human have the same root word as humus. Humus = “of the soil, a component derived from decomposed plant and animal remains and excrement”.
Does that mean to be human is to be full of crap?
Not really, although it seems that way at times. In part, to be human is to be a potentiality or a “ground” from which something good (or not) can grow; it depends on what kinds of seeds get planted.
When the weeds and thorns spring up, humiliation pulls them out and throws them on the compost pile where in time, they’ll make good fertilizer to grow something of value.
A sense of humor makes this inevitable and life-giving process a whole lot easier. I don’t think humiliation has to be the horrible nightmarish experience I usually have. What makes the process so excruciatingly painful is my lack of humor and the vice-grip I have on those inadequate self-definitions. Loss of self, even a crappy sense of self, is always at least a little scary.
But, on those rare moments when I can just laugh at the absurdity of it all and let my idols be torn away, a heavy weight is replaced by a great relief.
“Free at last…free at last”!
2 comments:
It's such a universal experience, that darned humiliation. I agree that it does have a lot to do with self-esteem. I think there are those who are just unaware that they are annoying. I wonder whether to pity or envy them. They just go about their business, oblivious of things that would totally humiliate me. It's funny. Sensitivity is a bit of a curse and maybe a mini blessing.
My whole journey with pride/self-esteem/ego/self-confidence is more of a circular one than a linear one.
And by circular, I mean like a rotten, stale cesspool.
I honestly disappoint myself with my childish need for others to think I'm cool. Why should it even freaking matter at this age? Suckage.
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