Well, The Meeting opened at SummerWorks last night and we felt the love! Thanks to all of you fine people who came out, played Bullshit Bingo and laughed at the dick jokes. If you liked it, tell your friends! And if you didn’t, keep it to yourself. We’re trying to make back our investment. Looks like we’re not gonna get any help on that front from NNOW Magazine - I’m not going to say the name of our reviewer, but I do know a critic there whose name rhymes with Blenn Bumi and he, ah . . . has crabs.
In other, but not completely unrelated news, our last wagtail platy, Low Self-Esteem, whom some of you may remember from a previous post, died yesterday after a short illness. While the death of Low Self-Esteem the fish is indeed tragic, it struck me that the death of low self-esteem as a crippling social problem would totally ROCK. Read on.
Just a couple of days ago, I was having a chat with two lovely and talented loyal readers, Hapu and Klsp, and Hapu offered me a fitting story for today’s discussion. Her friend, Hapu said, was married to a man who was like a five year old - spoiled, comes from money, only child - you know the type. Apparently, this guy had called his wife of two years that morning to say “You didn’t tell me the milk was SOUR!!” and then hung up on her.
Klsp and I were aghast. “So the milk was sour! What are you gonna do? And who doesn’t sniff their own milk? Was he like this BEFORE they got married? Did she KNOW?” Apparently the wife of Sour Milk Man knew full well what she was getting into with this guy but went ahead and got hitched anyway. What would make someone DO something like that? Brain damage? A dismissive review from Blenn “Itchy Genital Area” Bumi? No, ladies and gentlemen, I think we can find our answer in the flush of the toilet - thataway goes Low Self-Esteem.
It might be too late for Mrs. Sour Milk, but Hapu’s tale and Low Self-Esteem’s death have both inspired me to make good on some threats I’ve been making for awhile. I have a few people in my life (no, not you) who are constantly, exhaustingly, pointlessly and frustratingly engaging in the kind of needy self-deprecation that is only born of low self-esteem. I feel like their low self-esteem is something I need to address with these people. Is it my job? Am I a licensed therapist? No. But I do know that if someone had addressed MY constant, exhausting, pointless, frustrating needy self-deprecation back in the day, instead of just waiting for me to finish and then changing the subject, I would have figured things out much faster.
To that end, I’m thinking of taking Katr’s approach when she deals with these kinds of issues in professional situations. She’ll say to the person “Are you open to some behavioural feedback?” And if her prey assents, she will then outline the problem in a helpful way, using “I” statements and constructive criticism. An example would be “I find the number of words you use confusing. By stating the same thing in ten different ways and then drawing my attention to several issues that are relatively insignficant and aren’t my issue anyway, you end up obscuring your point, weakening your position and frustrating your client - me. So, to sum up: use fewer words.” Then she gets out the flowchart.
I would LOVE to apply this technique to the self-deprecation/low self-esteem problem. I think I too would start out with “Are you open to some behavioural feedback?” People with low self-esteem often allow themselves to be bullied and I’m bigger than them, so I expect permission would be granted fairly quickly. I would then lead with:
“You’re great. You’re funny and smart and talented and, if I may say, hot. And I like you. But this self-deprecation - well, as my brother says, it’s so ’90’s. When you refer to yourself as “fat” [in this context, “fat” is synonymous with “ugly"], “incompetent", “untalented” or “useless", I understand that you are trying to bolster your self-esteem by having me reassure you that you are none of these things. But by doing it constantly , you are inviting me to buy into your own self-hatred, and after a while, I am so worn down that I will start to agree with you. Because I am mean.
I’m really sorry that you don’t dig yourself. But let me tell you, and I speak from vast experience: Hating yourself is so fucking BORING. Liking yourself is SEXY. So my advice to you is this: self-deprecation is OUT. If you haven’t gotten to a place where you like yourself yet, try to pretend like if you have. ‘Cause one day, you may wake up and realize that you DO. And then I will take you for pancakes and maybe we’ll see some ducks.”
Harsh? Perhaps. Presumptuous? For SURE. I’ll let you all know how it goes. In the meantime, guys, if you have people in your lives who are ripe for this kind of advice - lay it on them. You may make an enemy of them for awhile but in the long run, they may appreciate your meddling. OR they may give you crabs.
Stay tuned for next week’s incredibly preachy post: I’m Sorry Your Parents Fucked Up, But It’s Time to Move The Hell ON. I look forward to your behavioural feedback.
