How to be as High on Yourself as I am: a Self-Esteem Primer

An amazing self-portrait, I know.

I drew this myself on my new tablet-mousy-thingy. They call this particular type a "Bamboo," but I honestly don't know why. It's not green or long or a renewable resource. I see no pandas attaching themselves to it. But whatever. Call it what you like, but it's fun to draw my feelings instead of just typing them all the time.

I need the kids to go back to school, like, last Thursday.

This is why I'm at work 90 minutes early today. It's not because I'm trying to get ahead on my to-do list. It's not because I was attempting to beat traffic. It's not because I'm trying to look good to my boss (my boss is my Facebook friend and follows me on Twitter - there's no way I can hide my crazy from her). It's because I get an extra 90 minutes to sit - get this - quietly and uninterrupted while I drink my coffee and write a blog post.

And, for that, you are most welcome.

Last week, I blogged about how being fat and miserable keeps us fat and miserable. And what I mean by that is simple: love your fatty self, because taking care of the body you love is a lot easier than hurting the body you hate by stupid shit like fad dieting. This post, of course, meant my inbox filled up with questions about how someone learns to love themselves as much as I love myself.

To be honest, I likely suffer from a deep-seated narcissism. So you probably don't want to love yourself quite as much as The Maven does. When you start to refer to yourself in the third person and not even question it, you know you have a problem. But I digress...

As I've explained many a time, The Maven wasn't always a big fan of The Maven. (See what I'm talking about?) I am a never-ending work in progress, much like the construction site down the road from you that never seems to produce much of anything despite all the guys standing around there each and every day. One day, they say, there will be condos there. And every once in a while you see a bit of digging, a bit of framing, and think to yourself that they better damn well put a Starbucks on the main floor to make up for all the noise you've endured.

Well, I will also have a Starbucks on my main level when I'm done, and I will make the most delicious lattes. But I'm not quite there yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I have a lot of work to do. But here's what I do know: There are concrete things I've done - and still do - that have helped me get this far. So I'm going to share them with you, what with me being such a self-help expert and all. (Please stop laughing.)

1. Let's look at this rationally.
We have one life to live. One. (Unless you believe in reincarnation. But then you might be born a toad or or a mushroom or something, so that doesn't really count anyway.) Do you really want to waste it feeling like shit all the time? What purpose is that serving? And believe me: It is serving some kind of purpose, so you need to figure out what that is.

Are you keeping yourself down because you're afraid of taking any steps to fix it? Is it comfortable doing what you're doing, even if it's not pleasant? Do you get some kind of attention from it? (AKA, having other people feed your ego by saying "Don't say that about yourself! It's not true!" That's not self-esteem, and it's not going to make you feel better about yourself. Like a junkie, you'll always be looking for the next compliment fix. Been there, done that.) Are you afraid of succeeding? Are you afraid of becoming ridiculously arrogant if you're not meek and mild all the time?

News flash: Being ridiculously arrogant is my job, not yours. You can't have it, so you'll have to settle for feeling confident. I know that sucks, but that's how it's gonna go down.

Anyway, figure out what's keeping you down. If it's fear, work through it. If it's depression, open up and talk to someone. If it's traumatic childhood issues, watch a few episodes of Hoarders and realize that pretty much everyone has traumatic childhood issues, but we need to work on letting them go and live for today, or face a lifetime of garbage collection and dead, buried cats.

2. Get over yourself, you big, whiny baby.
Having figured out what's keeping you down, it's time to let that go. Have a good cry if you need to. Say goodbye to the pity party, eat your last self-hatred sandwich. You are not a victim today. You are awesome. You are stuffed full of amazing (and maybe that self-hatred sandwich you just ate. But don't worry, you'll digest it soon). You are capable of great things if you'll just let yourself do them.

3. Come up with something you like about yourself every day. Yes, EVERY DAY.
A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, or whatever. That sounded like a good spot to throw in a Chinese proverb (my apologies to the Chinese if this saying doesn't belong to you. It just sounds like something your wise people would say. It's a compliment, ok?).

Anyway, the thing is, we all have stuff we don't particularly like about ourselves - even me. And now I'm asking you to compliment yourself every day. But start small: if your problem is that you don't like your weight, don't look in the mirror and say "My inner thighs look great today" because you'll probably just start crying while you say it, and that just defeats the whole purpose. Likewise, if your problem is that you're missing an arm from an unfortunate zoo accident, don't say "The lion left a really nice nub at the end of my shoulder" because that will likely have the same result. You can't start with the big stuff. If you could, you'd already have good self-esteem and not need to read this stupid primer.

My issue has mostly been my weight and how ugly I thought I looked because of it. I did not start with that. I started with non-physical things I appreciate in myself. I would look in the mirror and say - out loud, like a crazy woman - "I'm a pretty good writer" or "I'm very involved in my kids' lives and that makes me a good mom" or "I can arrange a beautiful wild flower bouquet." Anything at all that is positive about me. One thing each day, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. No exceptions. 

Why do I do this? Because I'm slowly building up my army of good to defend against the army of darkness (not the movie) that is occupying my head. Every time I plant a positive thought in my brain, it's like planting one troop in a hot zone. Every day the army grows. If it helps you to envision some yummy, sweaty, young infantry guy, go for it. I won't judge. Just do it.

4. Now come up with something harder you like about yourself - every day.
This step comes when you're ready. Step 3 can be done for a very long time or a very short time before implementing step 4. You'll know when it's time. You'll know because you'll test the waters by saying something like "I have very beautiful eyes" and you won't burst into fits of laughter or roll those very beautiful eyes after you say it. You'll believe it. 

Since physical appearance has been my Achilles heel when it comes to self-esteem, being able to slip in some compliments about the way I look was a good indicator that my army of light was growing in numbers. It took me a long time to really like my hair (I know, right? As if! I have great hair.) It took me a long time to like my smile. It took a very, very long time to be able to tell myself I looked pretty in what I was wearing, or to find myself worthy of - and rather stunning in - a beautiful dress in a size 18.

But I got there, slowly.

If you're frustrated by how long it takes to get good at step 4, just remember: At least you're making progress, which is a hell of a lot better than when you were crying into a bag of Oreos before step 1. Progress, not perfection. Baby steps. Enjoy the process, because, when you think about it, we never really reach a destination. We just travel more happily, and the scenery gets a lot nicer.

5. Beat negativity to death with a stick.
Steps 3, 4 and 5 can and should be done daily - when you get there. The thing about our society is that it thrives on negativity. We're fed all these messages every day through the media that we're not good enough unless we look a certain way, reach a certain income level, and own certain things. We're expected to be fountains of youth with fat bank accounts and huge, eerily white smiles plastered on our faces. That's how selling stuff works. Marketing 101; I didn't even have to get a degree to understand that basic concept.

The army of darkness (not the movie) will always be present and waiting for your forces to weaken. You need to replenish your troops regularly with compliments and recognition, surround yourself with positive, loving people, and shun the negative.  It is so easy to pick ourselves apart when we're bombarded with messages telling us to do exactly that. Make your world as safe and healthy as possible.

Despite my best efforts, I find that I sometimes still put myself down. I might have had a bad day, or I'm hormonal, or there's another area of my life not going the way I wish it would and I'm in full-on attack mode on myself. The difference is that I recognize when it's happening now and I fight back against it. If I think to myself "Look at those fat rolls. I'm digusting!" I quickly follow that up with "Maven. you've had a bad day, but you're still beautiful no matter what size you are. Don't be so hard on yourself. It's going to be okay." Blammo! Troops are parachuting into enemy territory. It really works - especially if you do this regularly.

And if you're struggling, just come on down and sit in my Starbucks for a bit. I'll make you a latte and tell you how awesome you are. Promise.

Why Being Fat and Miserable keeps us Fat and Miserable

What a scary scale. Please never buy me one of these.

This was my status on Facebook this evening: "Day 1 of sugar/simple carb detox. I feel like poop. My body hates me, but it will thank me in the long run. That is all."

Yep, I'm doing a sugar cleanse. And people probably think I'm nuts. But I'm hoping this will do my body some good - and maybe take off a few pounds, too.


I have pretty good self-esteem for a fat chick. Actually, I think I have pretty good self-esteem for any chick.  This has taken a tremendous amount of work on my part to talk my psyche down from the ledge on a daily basis as it's continuously bombarded by messages telling me I shouldn't like myself very much at all.

Nothing bothers me more than when a woman is down on herself for not looking like an airbrushed, boobatronic supermodel. I want to slap her, and shake her, and tell her she's beautiful. But then I remember that slapping and shaking a woman doesn't help her self-esteem, either. Well, unless she's into that kind of thing. (And then I would charge. Hey, don't judge: inside this meek and mild exterior is an entrepreneurial spirit.)

I am fat, and generally I am okay with that. It's not that I love being overweight, it's just that the adoration I have for myself does not hang in the balance of what dress size I wear. Like most other humpty-dumpties I know, I do dream of fitting into lawn chairs more comfortably (those cheap plastic sides can really dig in - especially when one is wearing shorts), but I don't lie awake at night wondering if I'll ever be pretty. I'm already pretty, thanks. And I don't walk the streets with my head down, feeling inferior to my smaller-sized counterparts. I'm a worthy biatch who smiles wider than her hips, makes plenty of eye contact, has a firm handshake and expects the same level of respect and kindness that everyone else gets.

Okay, fine: I expect a higher level of respect and kindness because I am The Maven and thus somewhat goddess-like. But I digress. 

Nearly everyone I know is trying to lose weight, or talking about losing weight, or at the very least thinking about losing weight. And many people I know - women, especially - are doing it because they "hate" their bodies. Like, cry-in-the-bathroom-mirror-after-a-shower type of hate. This is how I used to feel not too long ago, too.  I figured that accepting myself in my current situation would mean I'd be giving in to being a chubby checker, and I would just get bigger and bigger until I had to sew tablecloths together to make summertime patio party moomoos.

But here's what I learned about trying to do something good for yourself when you're busily self-deprecating:

It. 

Doesn't. 

Work.

Here's an example of my previous way of thinking: I wake up in a good mood and have a shower. When I'm toweling off I have a quick glance in the mirror.

Disgust sets in.

Suddenly I'm thinking about how much I despise the way I look, and why can't I stop being such a slob, and look at my fat ass, and how could anyone find me attractive, and why does Tommy's mom look like she's a size 4 and yet has a fatty latte and a muffin in her hand every time I see her, and why can't I just find the time to exercise, and I suck for being this lazy, and I just totally hate myself and my stupid body and it's not fair.

And then I slap on whatever clothes will cover the parts of me I find the grossest and tell myself that'll do until I have a nice body and can buy nice clothes for it, and I sort of do my hair and I sort of do my makeup, but I don't put a lot of effort in because I'm not going to look good anyway because I'm fat. Belugas with lipstick on are still belugas, right?

By the time I arrive where I'm going, I'm not just fat. I'm fat, un-kept and have a serious case of bitch face because I'm so miserable in my own skin. I've beaten myself up enough that I've made the problem a lot worse.

And yet, in that horrible head space, I will decide I need to eat better and exercise so I can be skinny and happy (note that the two of them are synonymous at this point; more on that later). Here's a newsflash:

That doesn't fucking work, either.

The minute I try to do anything out of negativity it goes awry. If I eat a bunch of carrot sticks I just get angry that I have to eat a bunch of carrot sticks to feed my stupid, sluggish metabolism. I feel deprived. And if I exercise, all I can focus on is how my fat is all jiggly and I probably look like a total idiot in these yoga pants. And when I weigh myself and see I haven't lost, or haven't lost as much as I think I have, it completely negates all the hard work I've been doing and gives my hopes of ever being skinny and happy (See? Those two words again) the beating of a lifetime. Before long, I'm elbow deep in a bag of chips, berating myself for it the next morning, and giving up on exercise because I'm a big, huge failure.

In short, I am my own worst enemy and a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If I don't like myself then I'm not going to want to do good things for myself. Period. Why would you do something for someone you don't like? And if I try to do it for my kids, or my spouse, or whoever else it might be for, I'm going to run out of steam pretty damn quick.

I'm old hat at this. I've played the same games with myself over and over again for years: Either I "don't have time to take care of myself right now" or "I'm so ugly/fat/disgusting/whatever that I have to do something drastic RIGHT NOW." There was very little in-between in my world for many years.

One day, I woke up and I just got really tired of feeling so down all the time. I realized that it wasn't about my weight, it was about my attitude.

Like any good structure, one needs to start from the ground up. A solid foundation is crucial to any success plan. Not too long ago, I started laying that foundation for myself. I stopped doing any exercise I didn't enjoy. I stopped chastising myself for every "unhealthy" thing I put in my mouth. I picked out clothing that compliment the body shape I have today instead of waiting for that magic number on the scale or dress size that would make it okay to look fabulous. I worked hard to remind myself that I am beautiful no matter what they say. Words can't--

Oops. That last part is someone else's mantra. But suffice to say that I tell myself I'm beautiful every day. Having done it for awhile now, I'm starting to believe it. Those old messages can take years to erase, and my worry has always been that if I don't love myself today - for who I am right now - then I'm never going to love myself no matter what size I am. And I refuse to go my entire life disliking the wonderful person I am. That is a life wasted, and I simply won't do it another day.

This has taken a lot of effort and a great deal of time. I've had moments - especially PMS moments - where I feel depleted, tearful, disgusting. But like any kind of cognitive work, I'm slowly reshaping the landscape of my scary little brain; I'm teaching it to filter out all those negative media and social messages so I can focus on one thing: unconditionally loving myself.

Now that I know how much I rock, it's easier to make good choices. I don't like my body feeling sick, so I took out gluten and feel much better. A pleasant side effect is that I dropped a couple of dress sizes, have more energy, less anxiety, far better nails and skin, and my digestive system loves me again.

I didn't like my body feeling sore, so I had my incisional hernia repaired. And now that things are improving - no more hematoma, no more bleeding, staples out - I'll soon be able to exercise again. I'm looking forward to getting my body back into shape so I have more energy. And, of course, the happy side effect to that might be that I lose some weight. And that would be great, but it's no longer an absolute when it comes to feeling good about myself.

Today was my first day cutting out all refined sugar and simple carbs. Why did I decide to do this? For the same reason: health. There's a very good chance that I'll lose weight in the process, and I'm sure this pudgezilla will look ravishing with more of a waistline, but even if I don't lose a pound I'm sure I'll feel better and add years to my life. These seemingly drastic steps are so easy to do when I put myself in a place of honour and respect the hell out of me. I might even slaughter a few goats on my shrine of awesome while I'm at it (goat burgers, anyone?)

Anyway, I guess I just want to see more people think they're as great as I think I am. It's lonely up here with only a handful of celebrities and narcissists to keep me company most of the time. So do me a favour and work on loving you if you don't already, ok? You deserve it. You are deliciously gorgeous right now, just as you are. There is so much more to you than your fat genes - or fat jeans, for that matter. And if a girl like me can look in the mirror and feel great, you can, too. Please don't make me slap you.

Well, at least not until we work out a price. And I might need to go find me a leather outfit or two to really get into the roll. Mistress Maven; I kind of like the sound of that.

Buckets of Joyfulness, and other crap I've realized.

Epiphanies suck because they happen just when you're all busy crying and feeling sorry for yourself and shit. 

So we all know it's been nearly a month since I've blogged. Did I mention the giant hematoma in my stomach? The constant bleeding for four weeks? The multiple trips to the hospital to see the surgeon, the ultrasound, the constant changing of sterile pads and gauze that now make my period look like a pleasant walk in the park? "Have a happy period"? Oh, I will. I will because a period in no way resembles the bleeding that might occur when one is stabbed in the stomach - which is pretty much what I lived with for several weeks.

Then there's the fact that all three gremlins are home for the summer, my family was wound up to the point of busting a spring or twelve, the house looked like it had been hit with a weapon of mass destruction by the time I could start cleaning it again, and I have a part-time job to go to; we can see where a serious lack of creativity may have occurred.

Have I been a little depressed? Anxious? Unhappy? Downright fucking miserable? Perhaps. Not only does this lend poorly to writing, but to living in general. It is really hard to want to do much of anything when you're chronically unhappy, and I've had many reasons to feel that way.

But what I gained from this experience - this fairly unpleasant, stressful experience - is that it helped me hit some kind of emotional bottom. I hit these every so often; a low point in which I have to reassess exactly what I want in life, where I want to direct my limited energy, and what I need to do to achieve those things. Naturally the exhibitionist attention whore in me has made a to-do list, in no particular order, Maven-style (you may want to take notes):

Fall in love with my partner all over again - without making three more babies together (emphasis on the NO MORE BABIES part, thank you).
Some wise person once said that marriage is like a garden, and that it can get overcrowded with weeds if you don't tend it, and those weeds get huge and overbearing and get little spikes on them and end up choking the life out of the pretty little flowers of love and affection, and then the dandelions turn into fluffy things that get caught in your nose when your partner blows on them, which sends you into a frenzy of resentment because why couldn't he blow that shit the other way, and you end up sneezing your way to divorce court.

Or something like that.

Underneath the years of baby-making and child rearing and financial stressors and all-nighters and tantrums and exhaustion, there are two people who love each other and miss spending time together. When you're buried in babies, it's easy to forget that this person is the reason you have those beautiful little beastlies in the first place. Reconnecting with Geekster has become a big priority in my life, every day. We're talking more, working together more, laughing more, going out together more, and putting in the effort to make our relationship the heart of our family. It's awesome. I feel like I have my best friend back. Eighteen years together is a long time, and I'm looking forward to the next eighteen.

Spend more quality time with The Gremlins Three without going bat shit crazy.
This pretty much goes without saying, but the horned wonders are the little moons that circle my planet - or, at times, the meteors that crash into it. They either control the tides or render large creatures extinct - both important roles in planetary evolution, really.

The boys need more of my positive attention so that maybe they can stop seeking so much of my - ahem - negative attention. Now that I'm able to move around and drive again, we've been hitting up museums and parks with more frequency. I've been putting my fear of epic meltdowns aside and realizing that if someone starts screaming, we can always leave; it doesn't mean we shouldn't go in the first place. Yes, we have a four-year-old who challenges everything right now and an eight-year-old with special needs who can get very defiant, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't go out and live - intelligently, of course.

This weekend, we attended a family-friendly BBQ. We stayed just over three hours, then packed up after dinner and said our goodbyes. Everyone was calm and playing nicely, so why did we leave just then? Because Geekster and I knew that we had hit the sweet spot: The kids had played enough and were just tired enough that they would likely leave happily. If we stayed much longer, we'd have to take off quickly with someone screaming and kicking while in the fireman's hold over my husband's shoulder. So the trick is to go out and experience life as a typical family, but also know when it's time to head back home for some decompression time. At any rate, the boys seem a lot happier lately, and as such we are all a lot happier. And this is saying something, considering it's summer: the cosmic joke on stay-at-home-moms.

Extended family: yes, I really do have some.
I'm fortunate enough that my parents and siblings and grandma all live in the same town as I do. And yet I don't see them nearly as much as I'd like. This is a damn shame, because they're all awesome people (it's genetic) and we should see a lot more of each other. So another priority for me is to connect more with them. I feel a little sorry for them that they don't get a Maven fix as much as they should, so we can call this an outreach program. You're welcome, family unit.

Friends - those great people you wish were family because they know exactly what to get you for your birthday.
This shouldn't come as a big surprise to anyone, but I'm really popular. This became even more apparent over the last few weeks, as people regularly checked up on me post-op, and did everything from drop off a coffee and a hug to clean the house and cook us a meal. My friends deserve a standing ovation for being so wonderful (I just need to finish my coffee first, ok?)

The thing about friendships is that they are relationships, and as such require their own bit of emotional landscaping. I've given a lot of thought recently to what makes a good friend, and how I can be a better one. What I've concluded is this: Good friends leave a conversation feeling mutually enriched, fulfilled and positive. This is how I want to feel when I interact with my friends and, just as importantly, this is what I want to give back to them. No head games, no passive-aggressiveness, no manipulation, no drama. Just good stuff, love, laughs, support, hugs. I think I'm a good friend most of the time, but having given it a lot of thought, I see room for improvement. I know this is shocking, being as I'm so fabulous and all, but it's true. So I'm going to focus on bringing joy to my friends' lives, which will only serve in bringing me joy as well. And then we'll all have buckets of joyfulness, and I'll likely get a Nobel Peace Prize for discovering said buckets and ending all wars.

Attitude. Oh, do I ever have some.
What I've been reminded of recently is that happiness is a state of mind. It's a choice. It's not something that is created or taken away from outside influences. Yes, there are big catastrophic situations that can suffocate a person's happy for a time. But, overall, most of how we see life is based on how we choose to see it. I've had plenty of reasons to be unhappy for a good while. But you know what? I've had plenty of reasons to be happy, too. I've just overlooked those in favour of focusing on the negative stuff.

As such, I'm making a conscious effort each day to look for the good stuff in my life and celebrate it. There may be plenty of suck, but there will always be plenty of suck. There will also be many things that are plenty of great. I'll deal with the suck, but I'll also invite in the great. And thus, I will be even more kick ass than I already am, if that's even possible.

Buckets of Joyfulness, Batman! You've hit on something big! (See? It's already happening - my buckets are being mainstreamed into the English language)

What's big on your priority list? (Other than reading my blog, of course...)