Dissonance

As I stare down the barrels of two life changes, both pointed straight at my heart, I am left hollow. A new place to live, a first step beyond my youth, these things are supposed to fill me with hope, excitement, anticipation. Yet the only thing I feel is dread.

But why so much dread?

I’ve lived on my own before. Though never quite in the same way. University is the safety net of young adulthood. When in school, one is typically not a working adult, head overflowing with the responsibilities I now face. Yet, I was able to do it in fourth year, especially when I was forcefully separated from my toxic living situation in second year. Of course, such a recovery was only possible following a full year lost, unable to so much as leave my room for months on end in my third year of school.

Naturally I still went to work. Couldn’t enjoy school, or the extremely active social life one expects from a young man in school, but I still made it to work on time. So, even if I were to fall into a similar pit of despair, at least I know I won’t starve.

Few people I know understand my feelings. Even I can’t be said to understand them most of the time. But those who have tried are often left as despondent as myself, for the duration of the conversations relating to my feelings.

Those opinions are at the crux of my current struggle.

Despite the existence of certain objective facts about me, about my inherent and earned qualities, I have never once in the whole course of my memory been able to acknowledge them. Never once felt comfortable in my appearance, clothing, personality, ability, likeability, or body. I’m not gender dysphoric, I am at least comfortable in both that identity and my sexuality. Even when the majority of people question or disbelieve the latter, I have never done so.

It is everything else where we, the rest of the world and I, have our greatest disagreements.

From my earliest memories I have possessed not a single positive thought about the boy, the man I am. And yet, I have almost always had people who want to lift me up in my life. Family, a few teachers and athletic coaches, and in these latter years even friends. Hell, I was even lucky enough to be in a genuine, loving, and deeply caring relationship for a few months last year.

All of these people see something in me that makes me worth knowing, worth caring for. Why, I am often left wondering, can I not see it?

You see, even when it comes to my writing, I feel nothing unless it gets recognized by either the curation team or one of you. I have, many times, expressed my eternal gratitude for the kindness shown to me by the Vocal community. The support, edits, and critiques from you all have elevated my creative confidence in ways I had never before dreamed possible. And yet, I am confident about nothing I publish. I see little value in my own work. I am aware of certain objective strengths, and certain weaknesses that I am working to overcome in my writing. But why can I only focus on the second and not the first?

Questions like this have haunted me for years. A curious case of self-deceit, perhaps.

Once upon a time, I called it the difference between knowing and feeling. Or, knowing and believing. Though the two are often falsely called equal. As an example, I know that I have some skill with words, objectively speaking I am not terrible. At least, not most of the time. We’ve all produced a few real stinkers in our evolving careers. And yet I do not feel so. I do not believe myself to have any such skill at all.

A further example is my opinion of myself as a person. It may come as a surprise to some of you, my readers to whom I show my falsely confident side, but I profoundly dislike myself. Hatred might even be closer to the mark than that comparatively gentle expression of dislike. I do not believe that I have a single good quality either in my face, figure, or personality.

So much is not entirely unique. Everyone goes through such days, weeks, months, or years of infectious imposter syndrome. But, what I have never met with before, is an other person with an opinion so low of themselves that a compliment genuinely takes them off guard every time. Or one who genuinely feels discomfort with those compliments, given that they fly completely in the face of everything one knows or believes about oneself. I’ve never found a person with such a deep seated dislike of themselves that they interpret every compliment as a lie designed to condescend to us.

Strange, isn’t it? That one can live inside one’s own head and see nothing in a kind light, despite the affirmations of those around us.

The opinions of others have always mattered more to me than my own, especially as it relates to me. Since there is not a positive thought in my head relating to that gentleman, I sought that affirmation elsewhere. Such a search naturally lead to devastating consequences.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I know that I’m not unique. I know that there are likely millions of people in Canada and around the world who feel not dissimilar to myself. But I must say that I have never personally made their acquaintance. Or, if I have, then I have never been told or otherwise made aware of those feelings.

I am always told, in my friends and family’s attempts to aid me in my quest to learn self-love, that one must ‘fake it ‘till you make it.’ But I have never managed to do that. At least, I don’t think I have. In fact, I’ve never understood what they mean by that statement. The definition is simple enough: pretend until it becomes real. But I do not seem capable of doing that.

Perhaps this difficulty comes in the form of my overflowing honesty. Or, in the event that I believe something untrue, a twisted form of honesty. I cannot pretend to have something I don’t feel I possess. So, I cannot present the false face of confidence or self-esteem because I do not feel that I am able to lie to the people around me.

Other strategies I’ve attempted include the old fall back of consciously writing down the things we like about ourselves. That was abandoned after two weeks because the lists were always empty. Likewise, I have stood in front of a mirror and tried to pick out features of myself that I like. Again, it was abandoned for lack of anything to list and the mirror again covered so that I don’t have to see myself. And finally, record the things that other people like about me. And though those lists are a good deal longer, each line of text I might write about it feels like a lie. Or at least, feels like it belongs to someone else. Likewise trying to find casual partners in order to glean some sense of one’s own desirability if nothing else have fallen flat. Painfully and horrible flat.

So here is my request to you, dear reader, if you would indulge me. Please outline in the comments your strategies for conquering self-doubt, self-hatred, and self-loathing. If there is something I have never tried before, I would love to give it a whirl.

Moving into a new place and starting a new job should be an exciting time. At least, if one is in my comparatively privileged position. But I can feel nothing but anxiety and dread. Anxiety more that I will not be able to live up to the hopeful expectations of all my loved ones. Do you have any strategies on finding the positives on which we are supposed to consciously focus instead of the negatives.

A dear friend of mine has the highest self-esteem and sense of self-worth that I have ever encountered. And it seems genuine. No evidence of narcissism or anything else that might count as negative. There is only the self-assurance that she is more than good enough. The bone-deep belief that she is as awesome as people say she is. Though, we haven’t yet been able to modify her methods to suit my psychology.

Thank you all in advance for your help in this endeavour. And thank you even more to everyone who has contributed to my developing sense of creative confidence.

Also, please accept my apology for dumping all my feelings onto the internet like this. I swear my content is usually more entertaining than sad.