I need to fall in love with myself.
At least that’s what I’m told by every media campaign and inspirational quote aimed at increasing my self-esteem.
It’s the message that has come to dominate pop lyrics and Dove ads ever since we’ve realized the damaging effects of the unrealistic standard of beauty portrayed in the media — that in order to feel confident in herself, a woman must be: tan, blonde, skinny (but still curvy), sexy (but not slutty), cute (but still sexy), smart (but not nerdy), unique (but not too different).
While this standard continues to be perpetuated in our society, it seems as though we’re beginning to come to a consensus: these are impossibly high expectations that make any woman who doesn’t fully embody each one feel inadequate and insecure.
So in order to repair this damage, an alternative message — to make women feel better about themselves — is promoted.
I’m constantly told I am perfect just the way I am. That I need to love myself more, believe in myself more, treat myself more. And I should probably have a little more “me” time in my life.
If I ever feel like I might not actually be a perfect human being, Selena Gomez’s song, “Who Says” will tell me otherwise:
Who says you’re not star potential?
Who says you’re not presidential?
Who says you’re not perfect?
Who says you’re not worth it?
(Thanks, Selena. I was beginning to wonder whether or not I really was perfect, but I can see now that my doubt was the problem all along. I really just need to believe in myself more. Because I am star potential. I am presidential. Now excuse me while I go carpe this diem.)
But here’s the problem: I’m not perfect.
I make mistakes. I fail meeting my own standards. I’m not always honest with others. Or myself. I say things I shouldn’t and I keep my mouth shut when I should speak up. I sacrifice good things to chase after the bad. I’m selfish. I’m prideful. I’m weak. I’m foolish.
I’m imperfect.
And I try desperately to make sure no one — not even myself — is aware of this, because the messages aimed at giving me self-confidence are telling me my value comes from being perfect.
But if I need to first believe I’m perfect before I can take on life, what happens when I’m reminded I’m not perfect?
If I find my self-worth by loving myself more and believing in myself more, what happens when my human weakness shows itself?
I crumble.
So I don’t let myself be reminded of these things.
When I should apologize but choose not to, it’s not because I don’t believe in myself enough; it’s because I believe in myself too much. I can’t bring myself to admit I am in the wrong, because my identity hinges on perfection.
When I spend excessive amounts of money on clothes and lattes and concerts but can’t bring myself to part with two dollars for the man who asks me for change downtown, it’s not because I don’t love myself enough. It’s because I love myself too much. I’m obeying the messages to fall in love with myself, to meet my own needs and wants first.
Because I deserve it.
This is why I’m worried about the messages meant to combat low self-esteem. I can see the effect they have in my own life, how they reinforce my own pride and selfishness.
And I fear these messages promote the opposite of what the well-meaning people behind them are hoping for. In their efforts to combat impossibly high standards, they are simply replacing one impossibly high standard with another. Because no one is perfect.
Instead of hopelessly trying to achieve perfection, maybe we should recognize we have value simply because we are human beings, created and loved by a perfect God. Our imperfections should be a source of strength as they encourage us to turn to Jesus in our incomplete-ness. Only then can we truly learn, mature, apologize, improve, and progress to actually be who God has called us to be.
This is true confidence: accepting my imperfections and knowing that having room to grow doesn’t mean having less worth. Because my value doesn’t come through perfection. It comes through finding my identity in Jesus.
Flickr photo (cc) by ana▲jonessy
