All About Me
Call it self-indulgent,but lately I've spent a lot of time thinking about compliments. Ofcourse, we all like compliments — they make us feel good aboutourselves. And, we've all also experienced the sting of the infamousback-handed compliment: "The extra weight looks good on you."What's most interesting to me though, is the compliments/kudos thatwe remember years later. When I'm having a bad day (not a simple badhair day or getting a flat tire in the rain), but I really bad day --one where I doubt myself, second guess every decision I've made inthe last five years, can't seem to find my own self-worth -- thinkingabout the times my SO [significant other] tells me I look great justaren't enough.
And, I guess that's whatI find so fascinating. When I was a little girl, I desperately wantedpeople to think that I was pretty (probably so that I'd think ofmyself as pretty), and other compliments rarely mattered to me.Smart, sweet, funny, cute -- there wasn't an adjective I wanted tohear if it wasn't "pretty" or "beautiful," andlater in college, "hot." It sounds so vain now, but avalidation of my looks was all that I wanted. In true the grass isalways greener fashion, I also bet all of the girls told that theywere pretty desperately wanted to be acknowledged for something otherthan their looks -- like a sense of humor or intelligence.
So, getting back to thepoint of the best compliment I've ever received, here goes: When Iwas a freshman in college, I was absolutely miserable. I wasattending Duke University, the kind of college that was my dream anda lot of people's dreams, but I could barely make myself get out ofbed in the morning. I had thought that I could make myself lovecollege. I tried being as social as I could at frat parties, throwingmyself into classes, looking into activities, even a therapist, butnone of it seemed to matter. And coupled with the fact that I wasmiserable, I also felt like a failure. What kind of person doesn'tenjoy college? I worried that I was socially inept, incapable ofbeing independent or just plain bratty.
Eventually, I decidedthat maybe it was the place and not me. Or, at least, that maybe Iwasn't the type of person for that particular kind of place. Istarted looking into the idea of transferring and began filling outapplications to other schools. A lot of people thought I was insane,which didn't do much for my feelings of failure. Even the dean I hadto see for one of my transfer applications was skeptical. "You'remaking the biggest mistake of your life," he told me. "Ifyou do this, you'll always regret it."
(Call me crazy, but I'mpretty sure that telling any 19-year-old a decision that doesn'tinvolve narcotics or firearms is the biggest mistake of their lifeleans towards the dramatic.)
For one of the firsttimes, I decided to trust myself. I decided to believe that maybe Iwasn't just bad at college, I was bad at being a Duke student. I wentahead with my transfer applications, and my very kind and graciouscollege counselor from high school even volunteered to help me withmy second round of applications and essays. In May of that year, Iwas accepted to Georgetown University. I moved to my D.C. dorm thatfall and spent the next few years loving my life as a Hoya.
During that applicationtime, it was my former college counselor who gave me my bestcompliment. As I was sitting in her office one day, she told me, "I'mso proud of you. You're so brave. I don't even think you realize howbrave you're being."
Sure, I wasn't savinganyone from a burning building, but for a "good girl" wholiked to please others and seek their approval, walking away fromDuke and ignoring the legions of people unhappy with my choice wasn'tthe easiest option. Plus, as someone who startles easily and can'twatch scary movies, I'm far more prone to think of myself as cowardlythan brave.
When I'm having a badday, I remember that someone thought I was brave. And I try my bestto be that. I also remember that I'm the one responsible for my lifeand what becomes of it, and I'm capable of making my own choices.Even when I think about being recently laid off, I let the idea ofbeing "brave" help me see this as the time to go after whatI want and not a reason to buckle. Basically, I do my best tofearlessly be me and hope that the rest falls into place.