When I read the words “I felt like my self-worth was at stake” in Melissa Auf der Maur's new memoir, Even the Good Girls Will Cry, it was as though I'd finally found the cause of the undercurrent of unease I'd sensed throughout my life.
I think, for most of my life, what I loved about myself and my sense of self-worth felt like they were always at stake. As though something innately valuable, not just to me but to something much bigger than myself, was always in danger of being lost.
I hadn't had the words for this until Auf der Maur spoke them for me.
Looking back, I can now explain why I spent so much of my life on the defensive. Mostly in my own head.
The internal conversations were endless. Silently, I defended my ideas, thoughts, and actions. Rehearsing what I might say to someone who might question, or even worse, laugh at what I loved about myself and what I believed was my value in the world.
I knew there was something about myself worth fighting for. A way of being that, when put into action, allowed me to feel the love I had for myself. Something that seemed effortless and occasionally brought with it an extraordinary feeling of fulfilment. As though I had delivered a package to the world containing something it didn't just want, but needed to make itself better.
But fighting for something you don't have the words to articulate and fighting for something you're clear about can result in two very different ways of being.
The first left me feeling defensive. The second gave me something I hadn't realized I was missing: the calm that comes from knowing what I was fighting for.
When I could finally articulate what ot was I loved about myself and my self-worth through my personal statement of purpose, I wasn't surprised by what it revealed.
What surprised me was the feeling that there was no longer something at stake that I might lose. For the first time, I had words for something I had spent much of my life unconsciously trying to protect.
I now had something I could recognize and return to, without having to continually defend its existence, even to myself.
That doesn't mean I no longer feel defensive. Or that I don't care what other people think.
But I'm beginning to appreciate the difference between defending something I feel to be true about myself and being able to articulate what I know to be true.
And perhaps that's one of the unexpected gifts of having a Personal Statement of Purpose. I no longer feel afraid that what I love about myself, or my self-worth, is at risk of being lost, questioned or, even worse, laughed at.
That doesn't mean I no longer feel defensive. Or that I don't care what other people think.
But I'm beginning to appreciate the difference between defending something I feel to be true about myself and being able to articulate what I know to be true.