Whittling Away At Self Esteem

I started whittling away at my self esteem when my husband laughed.

That's what some women do a lot, you know? We whittle... (def: To cut small bits from a piece of wood or to reduce or eliminate gradually). We mean well, we have good intentions but we begin to whittle, slowly eroding all evidence of our real selves.

Picture an old man of mountain folk-lore sitting on the porch of an aged-gray shack, a pile of shavings at his feet. Sometimes there's an incredible piece of art which emerges from a stump; sometimes there's just a pile of sawdust.

We women are at risk of feeling like that pile of sawdust whose inner beauty, true self and joy for living have been whittled away. It happens inoccuously and for many, the process is ignored until depression, disease or divorce brings it to the forefront. I didn't "get it" until later in life, but once I became aware that my real self was hiding away somewhere, I began taking steps to correct the situation, and it wasn't long before I began to feel alive -- emerging from the shavings to become the piece of art God designed me to be.

Let me tell you about this particular experience:

My son was less than a year old, and I was entertaining him -- and myself, truth be told -- by leading the parade in our living room, dancing in step with an old record of Sousa marches. That's when my husband came home from work and laughed with my son.

The problem? I thought he was laughing at me -- after all, I was being a bit foolish -- a grown woman acting like a kid. But I didn't ask, I didn't tell; I just quit dancing.

Why did I do this? Why do any of us women whittle ourselves down? I could cite many more examples; we're the first to put ourselves down with, "I'm sorry," when there's no reason to be sorry. We struggle with feeling good about our bodies; we care for others to the detriment of our own self-care, and we negatively compare ourselves with others.

Why? We women are a complex combination of emotions, details and a sixth sense that wakes us up in the middle of the night to discover a sick baby. We are made to pick up nuances of facial muscles, jaw tightening or body language that emits acceptance or disapproval. Because these subtle signs often fend off disaster or discomfort, our brain becomes programmed to perform interpretive duties on thousands of small bits of information. We make assumptions and decisions based on these messages, but many times -- as in my case -- such "evidence" is false.

I brought an already weakened self-esteem into my marriage and over the years, just as I did as a young girl, I slowly began to change who I was and started to become who I believed someone else wanted me to be. I thought I was being a good wife, compromising without complaint as I quit going to musicals because he didn't enjoy them, stopped acting like a kid having a good time, and all in all resigning myself to living a shadow self. Looking back, it scares me that the analogy which came to mind was "The Stepford Wives," a movie about "perfect" wives who in reality were robots with no soul.

Another problem? He didn't want a Stepford Wife -- my husband wanted the fun-loving, sometimes silly-acting, outgoing girl he fell in love with. He loved seeing me dance. He enjoyed seeing me happy at musicals. Just because he didn't do those things didn't mean I shouldn't.

When opposites attract, as they so often seem to do, God intends there to be an enhanced one from two. However, the pattern for us slow-learning humans, it seems, is to either collide with each other, creating constant bickering or downright fighting; or, as in my case, no conflict, but a gradual erosion of self.

I once heard a story of Michelangelo describing his sculpture of "The David." Someone asked him how to knew what to cut away and design from the original piece of stone. His reply? "I have only to hew away the rough walls that imprison the lovely apparition to reveal it to the other eyes as mine see it." He simply began to reveal what was already within; a magnificent piece of art which inspires us to this day.

When we allow God, our divine sculptor, to use people, circumstances and troubles to slowly reveal our true statue of strength, grace and beauty, that's when we begin to make a positive impact on our world.

How do we do that? Three "A's" provide the answer: Ask, Act and Affirm.

We begin to Ask: "What did you mean by that?" "What do I really like and want?"

We begin to Act: "I've decided I'd like to do that." "This is what I want from you."

And, most importantly for our self esteem, we begin to Acknowledge and Affirm who God has made us to be. "I'm a beautiful person, and I love my hair and my eyes, and my long legs, and yes, even my stomach which has born a child and so isn't so flat anymore..." and any other part of the body or our lives that we don't feel measures up. And by the way, what are we measuring ourselves against? An unrealistic, media-driven image of what others tell us we should be. Completing a scripture search on who God says we are is illuminating and much more productive!

When we're healthy in our minds, in our bodies and in our determination to be who God has created us to be, serving where we are called, that's when we'll see a piece of art arising like the Phoenix from the pile of shavings we call life.