Self esteem, blame and flexibility

Something strange happened in my singing lesson today. My teacher was trying to get me to do something that I just couldn’t seem to manage, no matter how hard I tried to do what she said. And I noticed she was getting really frustrated with me – not that she was nasty, just sounding frustrated.

I knew that, in the past, I’d have felt that her frustration was justified, and that I was to blame for not being able to do what she was asking. Maybe because I wasn’t trying hard enough, or going about it the wrong way – either way because I wasn’t doing the right thing.

But after all that I’ve been through in recent months, I took a very different approach. I dared to contemplate the possibility that it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t do it. I reflected that I’m a quick learner, intelligent and motivated, an experienced singer, well-coordinated physically and genuinely trying to do my best. So if I couldn’t do something, perhaps it was because she wasn’t explaining it in the right way for me. I decided that it was inappropriate for her to get frustrated with me.

This led to a brief but intense confrontation, which revealed a fascinating misunderstanding. My teacher felt that I kept having ideas of my own in a way that resisted what she was teaching. So she felt frustrated that every lesson I seemed to be doing something different from the previous one. It seemed to her that I was ignoring what she was saying. Whereas from my side, I was working really hard to do exactly what she told me, and was confused that she seemed to be giving me different ideas to work on from week to week.

(Part of the problem is that singing is such a difficult thing to teach – singing teachers generally use all sorts of ideas and metaphors to try to get their students to internalise a particular physical sensation or activity – my teacher was aiming at the same sensation every week, but using different images to get me closer to it.)

We eventually worked out that the problem was that I was overreacting to her suggestions. I was trying so hard to do exactly what she asked that I was abandoning everything I’d learnt up to that point. And so she was finding me as difficult to guide as it would be to steer a car with a steering wheel so sensitive that the tiniest finger movement triggered a dramatic change of direction! The more I hit obstacles (I think the problem today was simple physical tension in my shoulders and neck!), the more I’d try to find ways to do what she asked, and the more it would appear to her that I was following my own ideas and completely ignoring what she was saying.

Once we reached this point, the hostility and frustration all vanished and it suddenly made sense. Almost two years of putting up with occasional moments of frustration (her) and confusion (me) were resolved in ten minutes of tense but honest confrontation.

What stopped us resolving this before? I have to admit that it was my tendency to blame myself, rather than consider that others might be at fault.

I’m not quite sure where this comes from. To some extent it’s a conflict-avoidance measure. I don’t have much experience of having productive personal confrontations – ones that resolve issues rather than making them worse (generally because I use confrontation as the very last resort!). But I’m not afraid of conflict in situations that don’t relate to blame (e.g. political or philosophical debates). I suppose there’s also an element of “if I criticise them, they won’t like me” It feels like a mental habit – once I realise I’m doing it, it’s quite easy to stop myself – the trick is to notice something so ingrained!

I’m also not quite sure how I’ve survived up to this point in my life without undergoing terminal self-esteem failure. I’ve had several bad moments, but up until the break-up last autumn, it was never really a problem. I suppose it’s a combination of being good at doing lots of things and having had the luck to avoid encountering a lot of people who were unfairly critical. (Several times today I’ve been surprised to find myself feeling an utterly genuine gratitude to my ex – he said so many things about me that were glaringly wrong that he taught me to recognise it and say so!)

It’s fascinating to me just how much difference it makes when I dare to challenge the idea that I’m to blame for any problem I encounter! For one thing, it means I have to work a lot less hard to maintain my self-esteem – and I’m much less vulnerable to criticism from others. But it also gives me a much more balanced view of a situation, and thus a much greater ability to take appropriate action. And I think I’m going to learn a lot more this way, too.

The willow tree that bends to the wind may have good reason to be proud of her flexibility, but she probably doesn’t learn as much about the wind as she would if she stood up for herself a little more!

Love, intuition and insecurity

Shortly before he broke up with me, my ex told me that my fears about our relationship were irrational and due to insecurity and low self-esteem. He said that I had nothing to be afraid of because nothing had changed between us.

At the time I believed him, and did my utmost to calm my fears and trust him… right up to the point where he closed off communication abruptly and finally. He said that this was because my insecurity was making me too needy and demanding. That my expressions of distress were overdramatic and something that he “did not choose to have around him at this time”.

To begin with I thought my irrational and out of control fear had actually brought about exactly what I dreaded. But I see things very differently now. The fear was a response to the problems in our relationship, not the cause of them. What was making me so insecure was actually a very shrewd intuition.

When problems started to manifest themselves, a voice started to tell me, “something is wrong”. Now I look back at his behaviour, the problems were very, very obvious- it’s hardly unreasonable to be concerned when your lover changes suddenly from affectionate to distant, from communicative to withdrawn, from open to defensive.

But I didn’t want to hear that voice. I didn’t want to hear that things were not going well in a relationship which, up to then, had exceeded what I had dreamed was possible in a relationship. But things were wrong, and my intuition wouldn’t let me ignore it. No wonder I felt insecure, with a voice inside me shouting, “SOMETHING IS WRONG!”

If I hadn’t had that intuition that something was wrong, I would have felt less insecure, and might indeed have been able to control my fears. And I might still be in a relationship that had become unhealthy for my peace of mind.

In the circumstances, insecure was exactly the right response, and it triggered an ending that had to happen. But it wasn’t a good ending. Of course, there’s no pleasant way to end a relationship that we had both had cherished such hopes for, but we were caught up in a vicious spiral of fear and distress that was deeply unpleasant. Yes, it was necessary for it to end, but with hindsight I can see many ways I could have helped us find a better ending.

The problem was that that I was ignoring my intuition, so it turned into insecurity rather than action. If I’d faced up to what my intution was telling me, I could have taken control of the situation. I would have been able to take action to protect myself and challenge his behaviour and his interpretations of my behaviour. I would have been able to attempt to solve the problem or end the relationship on my own terms.

What were those inner signs that something was wrong? A deep uneasiness. A feeling that I didn’t want to look too closely at what was happening. A reluctance to describe the situation to close friends for fear that they would confirm my fear that something was wrong. A strong feeling of fear, that kept returning when I banished it with argument. A feeling that who I was wasn’t good enough. A feeling of being cut off from my strength, of needing to apologise for what was no more than being human, and having human needs and vulnerabilities.

And what were the signs when I started to listen to the truth inside me? Sharing with my friends the things I had not dared to mention when I was afraid, and listening to their advice. A need to know the truth, whatever it was, of what had gone wrong between us, and whether it was truly over. A willingness to challenge my ex’s silence in order to find out that truth, however he reacted. And even when he reacted defensively, and said many critical things, I was able to accept and learn from the true things that he said and discard what he was projecting onto me. When he told me I was not being truthful, I had confidence in my own honesty and self-knowledge. And while I loved him still, and felt compassion for the inner turmoil and denial that was prompting this hurtful behaviour, I was able to protect myself, and see clearly how little this had to do with me.

It took me several months, but in the end I reclaimed my freedom and my strength, and walked on towards my future.

Next time I will definitely try to listen to what my intuition has to say!