I don’t know how much power there is in me. I suppose it depends on what kind of power. But I believe there is incredible power in being myself.
My childhood was a wreck. I hardly ever went to school and dropped out in ninth grade. I wet the bed until I was 12, felt as popular as a skunk, and always looked sad, like I would burst into tears at any moment.
I believed I was broken, which made me feel inferior. So instead of pursuing hobbies, playing with friends or going to school, I sat in front of the television and pretended I was somebody great: a doctor, a rich real estate guy, a lawyer—anybody valuable.
I don’t want—check that—I don’t NEED to be somebody great anymore. It turns out I wasn’t broken, I only felt like I was. It was my perception, not me, that was defective. That was a huge insight but only a first step. I needed to adjust how I saw myself. For that I looked to the truth.
I wasn’t super human. I wasn’t the most valued person on the planet: the funniest, most attractive, best-liked, richest guy ever. That was the truth, or I should say, a piece of the truth. The other piece was that I didn’t have to be super human.
That realization made it possible to be more honest with myself. When I was embarrassed I admitted to myself that I was embarrassed. People didn’t like me or find me attractive? That hurt so I just hurt. Rejection was the worst. It didn’t hurt, it humiliated me. I acknowledged that.
And somewhere along the way I started to see me. Instead of swallowing whole chunks of other people’s opinions, I began to recognize what I liked. I found passions and developed my values. That’s when I transitioned from seeing me to being me.
Now I can admit to being wrong and apologize. I can accept criticism and fail but also keep trying. Accomplishments boost my esteem, they don’t prop it up. I don’t sabotage relationships for fear of rejection. I’m not terrified of breaking up; I’ll still have me.
A group of friends and I were arguing politics one time when someone we didn’t know looked at me and angrily said, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.” My cheeks got flush as I became instantly embarrassed, mostly because he was right. But the next moment I recognized that all the power, the capability to embarrass, was in me, not the guy making the comment so I tried a brand new tact; I admitted my ignorance. Man, you should have seen the incredulous looks on people’s faces as if to say, “you can’t just admit that.” But I did and it was incredible. In that split second all the power behind his statement went poof!
When I do stuff like that something in me soars because it’s way down deep and honest and for real, me.