I don’t carry a staggering amount of self-esteem. Which is crazy, considering how far I’ve come in my nearly thirty-four years of (current) existence. I’ve done a lot. Changed a lot. Helped change other people, a lot.
I’m a writer. I’m a healer. Always have been, always will be. And yet, there is still a search for meaning. Still a search for answers. A search for self-actualization, for satisfaction.
A search for – external validation?
I marvel at my friends who talk at length and ease about their lives, opinions, accomplishments, and hardships. I marvel at these wonderfully-eloquent, passionate, individuals who make confident small-talk look so easy, despite many of them identifying as introverts.
I’m not like that most of the time. I open my mouth and freeze up. I stumble over words, half-baked ideas that disintegrate unto a failed memory almost as quickly as they form.
When I speak, I come from a place of searching for answers. I come from a place of frustrations as a visibly trans woman living in a conservative small town. I come from a place of a workaholic with ADHD who struggles with financial independence.
And usually when I speak, I come from a place of lacking confidence.
My life feels miniscule, almost infantile, in comparison to those whom I adore. I often leave conversations feeling like I’ve got nothing worthwhile to contribute – wondering if these people I admire so much pity me, or are annoyed by me, in secret.
In reality, it’s just my lack of self-confidence trying to convince me of untruths. And I know these people who I admire also admire me (more than I’ll ever know or comprehend), and wonder why I lack confidence when there’s every right to feel the opposite.
It’s because I am looking for external validation from people I admire, who are seemingly more “adultier” than I am, when the only validation I truly need to seek already lies within myself.
I grew up socially-stunted, but over the years I learned to be a listener. And I listen fairly well – and that’s what makes me such an effective writer and healer.
But, when it comes to my own life, often it feels like I’m searching about blindly for intuitive answers that should be obvious. My 5D ears and 5D eyes are covered by my never-ending 3D search for meaning and self-esteem.
Why is this?
If all of us who struggle with self confidence stop and truly think about our lives, all that we’ve done, all that we’ve survived, where does this dauntless search for further meaning come from?
Our lives carry enough meaning, all on their own. We exist. Our souls were given flesh and free will – time, and time, again. That’s meaningful enough, isn’t it?
Or is it ego that gets in the way? A feeling like we were meant for something greater, that for some reason we are special, that we rise above the rest – or are supposed to, in some fantastical celebratory way.
That no one can see the world in the way that we do, that no one can achieve what it is we are allegedly meant to achieve.
But what if what we are meant to achieve has already been checked off? What then?
A fissure in the breeze. Dissatisfaction in the mundane. The search for more begins to tickle at the heart-strings.
But when more simply doesn’t present itself in the form of other people’s praise, we the many view ourselves failures.
I know I do.
And that’s the hardest part. Creating beautiful pieces of art. Evoking visual masterpieces drawn purely from the written word – these are things I am good at. These are things I wish to share. These are things I am proud of, and want to be known for.
I simply want to create. I simply want to heal through such creations.
Money, in many ways, doesn’t matter to me in this respect.
So then, why does external validation?
Who am I, if I cannot praise and love myself, first?
Yours in spirit,
~ Millie Blackwood xo