Tag: self-acceptance

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Deflect Name-Calling and Know You Are Precious and Beautiful

First published March 13, 2022.

Today I read in the paper this question: When fear is trying to get the best of you, continually ask, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

People could shun me. Talk behind my back. Insult me openly. Consider me crazy. Misguided. Hate me. Ridicule me. Be embarrassed for me. For my family. My family will be humiliated and embarrassed by me. I could feel embarrassed and humiliated, regretting my choice to speak out.

When I was sixteen, I engaged in survival sex. That’s often what a teen does when (s)he is homeless, penniless, terrified, hungry, lost, and powerless. (S)he engages in sex in exchange for shelter and food. 

I write about my experiences in my memoir originally titled, NASTY GIRL. That’s what a psychologist called me when I went to him for help. It’s what the other clients called me in a show of so-called love. “You’re nasty, Polly,” they would say to me on various occasions. I believed them and saw myself as the daughter the rock group The Mothers of Invention lead by Frank Zappa sang about in the song, Brown Shoes Don’t Make It. “I’m going to make her do a nasty on the White House lawn”, Zappa sings. “Nasty, nasty, nasty. Nasty, nasty, nasty,” goes the chorus.

Today, I experience joy

I have since retitled my memoir to A MINOR, UNACCOMPANIED, a play on words that signifies my status at the time, and the first piece I ever performed on stage as a teenager.

Why write about it?

You are worthy of

dignity,

respect,

praise,

attention,

affection,

admiration.

Because girls, and boys, who engage in survival sex, and who often get lured or trapped into sex trafficking, like I did, are not nasty. They are wretched. They are miserable. They are in pain, but desperate to survive by the only means available to them.

My experience was 50+ years ago. It is etched in my mind and heart, but I survived. Today, I experience joy because I know I am not nasty and never was. I’ve always been precious and beautiful. I was just in too much pain to realize it for such a log time. 

Deflect Name-Calling 

I wrote my memoir to share the shame I felt and to tell others with similar experiences–you are not alone, and you can recover joy, shed shame, and feel self-love. Getting there hurts, yes. But the pain is like a ghost now. Every once in a while, a forgotten trauma pocket surprises me. I feel it, express it, and let it go. The feeling passes and I am that much stronger. I love myself now. Dare I say I adore myself? With a certain amount of humility, yes. After all, I’m deeply flawed, as are we all. You can adore yourself, too.

But you’ve got to love the pain as well. You have to cherish it and hold it dear. That’s where recovery begins. Until we are able to embrace the pain, it will keep us chained to that belief that we are unworthy of dignity, respect, praise, attention, affection, admiration, etc. You are worthy of all these things. Without feeling the pain, you’ll never forgive yourself deep down inside. Face your nightmare. Own it, with help. And get free.

"You don't have to like your experience; you simply don't resist it. Resisting your experience is the same as not trusting the movement of true nature -- believing you must control things to ensure movement because you do not experience the larger flow of reality. By not resisting, you don't get stuck or fixed on a particular feeling or concern, so your experience is able to flow and transform more easily and naturally."

"Soul Without Shame--A Guide to Liberating Yourself from the Judge Within" by Byron Brown

Check out my interview with:

National Runaway Safeline Youth HOPE Month blog interview, November 2024.

You might also enjoy: https://pollyhansen.com/how-to-end-self-inflicted-emotional-suffering/

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How to End Self-Inflicted Emotional Suffering

A few years ago, I often got stuck in the old seeking-approval rut, the “I’m-not-good-enough” rut, the “people-don’t-like-me” rut. I rarely get snagged there anymore, except when I’m scrolling through social media posts and comparing mine to others, thinking I don’t generate as many “likes” as they do. Thankfully, the fall doesn’t last nearly as long as it used to. I pick myself up fairly quickly, dust myself off, and continue on my journey towards self-love. I do that with the help of spiritual tools such as readings, prayer, journaling, and admitting this fault to a trusted friend or two. 

In her book Comfortable with Uncertainty, 108 Teachings on Cultivating Fearlessness and Compassion, American Buddhist nun, Pema Chödrôn writes about suffering. “[We suffer when] we proceed as if we are separate from everything else, as if we are a fixed identity, when our true situation is egoless. Because we mistake the openness of our being for a solid, irrefutable self, we suffer.”  [From Teaching #27: “The Facts of Life: Suffering”]

We look for happiness in all the wrong places

Chödrôn goes on to say “[W]e look for happiness in all the wrong places. The Buddha called this habit ‘mistaking suffering for happiness.’ We become habituated to reaching for something to ease the edginess of the moment. Thus we become less and less able to reside with even the most fleeting uneasiness or discomfort. What begins as a slight shift of energy – a minor tightening of our stomach, a vague indefinable feeling that something bad is about to happen – escalates into addiction. This is our way of trying to make life predictable. Because we mistake what always results in suffering to be what will bring us happiness, we remain stuck in the repetitious habit of escalating our dissatisfaction.”

Yes! Such as when I yearned for approval from others and wondered, How can I change myself to get people to like me? That is the “repetitious habit” Chödrôn speaks of, the addiction to easing the discomfort, to easing the “edginess of the moment” rather than simply sitting with it.

What happens when I focus on the discomfort rather than trying to make it go away?

And what happens when I sit in silence and do nothing? What happens when I focus on the discomfort rather than trying to make it go away?

I find compassion for myself.

And isn’t that what I wanted all along? Reassurance that I am a worthy human being?

I am humbled by my imperfections

I wrote a version of this article over four years ago and I see now how much I have progressed towards self-love and self-acceptance, which includes accepting my imperfections. I am humbled by them.

We suffer when we tell ourselves, “I’m not good enough.” Maybe I think my writing isn’t good enough, or my work ethic isn’t what it should be, or I eat too much, or I complain too much. I am not this or that, instead of, I am this or that. Period. I am this. Whatever it is. I am impatient. True. I am often frustrated. True. I am often wrong. True. I am sometimes unkind. True.

And I am lovable. Even likable. I am all these things.

And God still loves me. I still love me. People that matter to me most love me.

Like authors hoping to find their ideal readers

This seeking approval from others, which arises from that discomfort Chödrôn  speaks of, no longer plagues me as it used to. Now, I seek my own approval, or rather, self-acceptance, which includes my many faults. Not everyone is going to like me. It’s insanity to think otherwise. As far as approval is concerned, it’s kind of like an author hoping to find her ideal readers. Not everyone likes the same kinds of books. It’s the same with people. We need to find the people who like us despite our flaws. We don’t need anyone’s “approval.”

Today, I accept myself just as I am, and can change what I don’t like about me, such as my impatience, with awareness and practice. I don’t need anyone’s approval but my own. And God’s, which I already have. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to become more fully accepting and self-loving. It is my life’s journey. I hope it is yours, too.

Posted on

Deflect Name-Calling and Know You Are Precious and Beautiful

Today I read in the paper this question: When fear is trying to get the best of you, continually ask, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

People could shun me. Talk behind my back. Insult me openly. Consider me crazy. Misguided. Hate me. Ridicule me. Be embarrassed for me. For my family. My family will be humiliated and embarrassed by me. I could feel embarrassed and humiliated, regretting my choice to speak out.

When I was sixteen, I engaged in survival sex. That’s often what a teen does when (s)he is homeless, penniless, terrified, hungry, lost, and powerless. (S)he engages in sex in exchange for shelter and food.

I write about my experiences in my memoir, NASTY GIRL, so titled because that’s what a psychologist called me when I went to him for help. It’s what the other clients called me in a show of so-called love. “You’re nasty, Polly,” they would say to me on various occasions. I believed I was nasty, and saw myself as the daughter the rock group The Mothers of Invention lead by Frank Zappa sang about in the song, Brown Shoes Don’t Make It. “I’m going to make her do a nasty on the White House lawn”, Zappa sings. “Nasty, nasty, nasty. Nasty, nasty, nasty,” goes the chorus.

Today, I experience joy

I have since retitled my memoir to A MINOR, UNACCOMPANIED, a play on words that signifies my status at the time, and the first piece I ever performed on stage.

Why write about it?

I know I am not nasty and never was. I’ve always been precious and beautiful.

Because girls, and boys, who engage in survival sex, and who often get lured or trapped into sex trafficking, like I did, are not nasty. They are wretched. They are miserable. They are in pain, but desperate to survive by the only means available to them.

My experience was 50+ years ago. It is etched in my mind and heart, but I survived. Today, I experience joy because I know I am not nasty and never was. I’ve always been precious and beautiful. I was just in too much pain to realize it for such a log time.

Deflect Name-Calling

I wrote my memoir to share the shame I felt and to tell others with similar experiences–you are not alone, and you can recover joy, shed the shame and feel self-love. Getting there hurts, you betcha. I understand. I don’t hurt anymore, for the most part. Every once in a while, I run into a pocket of pain that I express with surprise, release, and let go. The feeling passes and I am that much stronger. I love myself now. I adore myself. You can adore yourself, too.

But you’ve got to love the pain as well. You have to cherish it and hold it dear. That’s where recovery begins. Until we are able to embrace the pain it will keep us chained. Without feeling the pain, you’ll never forgive yourself deep down inside. Face your nightmare. Own it, with help. And get free.

"You don't have to like your experience; you simply don't resist it. Resisting your experience is the same as not trusting the movement of true nature -- believing you must control things to ensure movement because you do not experience the larger flow of reality. By not resisting, you don't get stuck or fixed on a particular feeling or concern, so your experience is able to flow and transform more easily and naturally."

"Soul Without Shame--A Guide to Liberating Yourself from the Judge Within" by Byron Brown

Check out my interview with:

National Runaway Safeline Youth HOPE Month blog interview, November 2024.

You might also enjoy: https://pollyhansen.com/how-to-end-self-inflicted-emotional-suffering/