I once wrote about how difficult it is to say nice things about yourself. How if you were to be asked to describe a loved one, a close friend or family member, a partner, even a beloved work colleague, you’d have no trouble at all. Praise would come easy, come naturally. But to speak that highly of yourself?
It’s virtually unheard of. At least, not without some sort of disclaimer first so as not to sound big-headed or boastful.
And in a lockdown? Forget about it.
If negative self-talk was rampant beforehand, it’s become a daily occurence now, no more out of place than washing up or eating breakfast.
AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT, BITCH? WE’RE GOING TO STOP THAT, RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.
Granted, that’s not the most eloquent way I could have phrased that particular sentiment, but I cannot stress how insidious it is to repeatedly berate yourself with harsh and needless self-criticism.
In the midst of this strange new world we’ve found ourselves living in, it’s become easier than ever to punish ourselves for not living a picture-perfect-lifestyle and not handling this with the strength, grace and poise that Everyone Else seems to be exhibiting.
Let’s be honest, most of our human contact has been through phone screens over the last eight weeks. And where does that leave us? Apologising for our appearance on Zoom calls. Feeling like we have all the allure and intrigue of dishwater because we’ve all lived the same exact day fifty times in a row.
“Any plans? What have you been up to? How is everyone?” Actually Derek, the same as the rest of the world – fucking nothing. I haven’t learned to crochet, I haven’t mastered sourdough, I dont speak fluent Spanish and I sure as hell haven’t given myself a haircut.
The other downside to consuming vast amounts of human interaction through a phone screen, is the classic love-hate relationship we all have with social media. Every newsfeed has been a digital minefield recently, that I’ve found myself licking the wounds from on multiple occasions. If it’s not the latest flawlessly filtered, practically perfect offering from Instagram’s elite, it’s a cesspit of venom, of anger, of racism, of fake news and politicised barbs from all angles. Every which way you look at it, there’s going to be something that unavoidably makes you feel dreadful about your current reality.
Look, things are hard right now. Don’t let sassy quotes fool you – you don’t have the same 24 hours in a day as Beyonce. Yes, her days are just as long as ours, but Beyonce isn’t worrying about council tax, is she? She’s not wandering aimlessly through the same three rooms in her house or queueing for an ungodly amount of time just to get into Tesco. Give yourself a break.
The issue of the class divide in a pandemic aside, it’s not just the rich and famous we’re comparing ourselves to. It’s the people on furlough while you have no income. It’s the people who are quarantined with their families while you haven’t seen your own mother in months. It’s the people who still look preened and polished and your body has only known the feel of sweatpants since March. It’s the fun, creative, delicious, romantic imagery from seemingly everyone we know, while we feel bored and lonely and sluggish and uninspired.
A bad habit I’ve picked up is mentally listing everything I’m not, everything I don’t have. Mourning the loss of my job, my social life, looking in the mirror and attacking my reflection because the rollercoaster of emotions I’m strapped into is causing breakouts. Crying at the kitchen table because I have no answers, no clarity on what happens next.
No, I can’t wave a magic wand and conjur up a perfect job opportunity, or assuage my financial worries with the flick of a wrist.
But what I can do, is ease up on telling myself I’m ugly or a failure and that everyone is doing better than I am simply because I don’t see their struggles. We’re all guilty of it – for every filtered photo of myself or snapshot of laughter or (yet another) aesthetic frame of flowers that I share with the world, I’m not broadcasting the tears, or the angry, stress induced red blotches, or the afternoons I’ve spent staring at the ceiling.
What I can do, is remind myself that coronavirus has presented everyone with their own battles and I don’t need to be fighting with myself on top of everything else. I’ve written about considering the feelings of our inner child right now – and I absolutely wouldn’t be as cruel to her as I am to myself as an adult.
Before, during and after coronavirus, I am a strong, worthy, intelligent, accomplished person. Before, during, and after this mess, I am allowed to have hard days on the condition that when they have passed, I will see and acknowledge my own beauty, self-worth and achievements with clear eyes and not be so quick to dismiss them because Brittany on Instagram had a better day than me.
