Borrowing an idea from ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
annotated_em via branchandroot, based on a post about the problems with modesty by synecdochic:
Say something about one's awesomeness. Something you worked at. Something you're proud of, or possibly something you should be proud of if you weren't shamed into denying it.
So. I am a good writer. I have worked very hard at writing and storytelling, starting with the elaborate fantasy epics I told myself when I was 6-10 years old and the bedtime stories I told my little sister when we shared a room for a couple years. I started trying to write my ideas down when I was 11-12 years old. They mostly sucked -- I had no idea how to create characters, turn a scenario into a plot, write descriptive details, dialogue, action scenes, or anything useful at all. But I wanted to write. I had ideas I wanted to make real, stories I wanted to tell, characters I wanted to bring to life. So I practiced. I tried over and over, one fragmentary story and patchwork world after another, until I started to get things right.
I am still practicing and still learning, and I hope to god I will continue to get better as a writer and storyteller, but you know what? I am pretty damn good right now. And I am proud of that.
...
I am also a kick-ass religious education (RE) teacher, thank you very much.
I have been good at all my jobs except data entry -- I was an efficient secretary, an encouraging and rigorous homeschool teacher, an attentive and cheerful server at the assisted living home, and a careful, flexible, and friendly personal assistant to Pat.
Finally, I fought through periodic clinical depression and guilt spirals and self-hatred and all kinds of negative thought and behavioral patterns until I reached a place where I am okay with the world and with myself. It was the hardest thing I have done in my life, but I got out of the box and realized that I do not need to justify and pay for any moment of happiness, nor beat myself up for every tiny slip away from perfection, nor do any of the hundred and one other things I did to undercut myself and turn the whole world gray and cold and futile.
I am not perfect, but you know what? I like myself. I like my mind, my personality, and my body.
I think that is pretty awesome.
annotated_em via branchandroot, based on a post about the problems with modesty by synecdochic:Say something about one's awesomeness. Something you worked at. Something you're proud of, or possibly something you should be proud of if you weren't shamed into denying it.
So. I am a good writer. I have worked very hard at writing and storytelling, starting with the elaborate fantasy epics I told myself when I was 6-10 years old and the bedtime stories I told my little sister when we shared a room for a couple years. I started trying to write my ideas down when I was 11-12 years old. They mostly sucked -- I had no idea how to create characters, turn a scenario into a plot, write descriptive details, dialogue, action scenes, or anything useful at all. But I wanted to write. I had ideas I wanted to make real, stories I wanted to tell, characters I wanted to bring to life. So I practiced. I tried over and over, one fragmentary story and patchwork world after another, until I started to get things right.
I am still practicing and still learning, and I hope to god I will continue to get better as a writer and storyteller, but you know what? I am pretty damn good right now. And I am proud of that.
...
I am also a kick-ass religious education (RE) teacher, thank you very much.
I have been good at all my jobs except data entry -- I was an efficient secretary, an encouraging and rigorous homeschool teacher, an attentive and cheerful server at the assisted living home, and a careful, flexible, and friendly personal assistant to Pat.
Finally, I fought through periodic clinical depression and guilt spirals and self-hatred and all kinds of negative thought and behavioral patterns until I reached a place where I am okay with the world and with myself. It was the hardest thing I have done in my life, but I got out of the box and realized that I do not need to justify and pay for any moment of happiness, nor beat myself up for every tiny slip away from perfection, nor do any of the hundred and one other things I did to undercut myself and turn the whole world gray and cold and futile.
I am not perfect, but you know what? I like myself. I like my mind, my personality, and my body.
I think that is pretty awesome.
