So many teenagers go through the rite of passage of driving a car that has seen better days. When I got my first car, it wasn’t new, fancy, or fast, but it immediately became my favorite thing in the world. When I drove the car home, smoke trickled from under the hood. Not to be deterred, I named the car Ethel, creating a persona of an elderly woman for the car. She smoked a little, creaked a little, and refused to move quickly.
I loved Ethel. I loved the giant pink and blue vinyl swoop decal, the groaning, the slow acceleration, and the teeth-chattering rattle that resulted from driving over 55mph. The fact that every two hours I had to give Ethel a half hour rest or she would overheat was just an opportunity to get coffee and text. These imperfections gave her character that new cars could never have. When I look back on my time with Ethel, I remember the freedom, the autonomy, the great visibility, the powerful four-wheel drive that could get me through snowbanks, and the joyful rides with my sister and friends.
So why was it so hard to find that same acceptance for own flaws?
I’ve had a lot of struggles with self-confidence. I get stuck on my own perceived flaws — my height (or lack thereof), stretch marks from weight fluctuations, intense introversion, even my preference in books and shows (dry epic fantasy and Korean dramas). When I was younger, my self-worth was largely based on being “smart”, and was unravelled when I went to a private college and struggled immensely. If asked to describe myself, I would have probably answered self-deprecatingly.
After leaving college, I moved to NYC and joined a startup, progressing my career as fast as I could to prove that I was worth something. When I thought of myself I thought of someone who didn’t graduate, someone who was bad at programming, someone who was short and kind of weird.
When I started therapy, the first thing that came up was my self-talk and perception. I realized quickly that I spent a lot of time comparing myself to some ideal I created my head, and almost none celebrating my successes. When I looked at myself I saw a list of flaws, and when I looked at others I focused on the positives.
It’s amazing what a difference positive self-talk, positive thinking, and good habits make. Just noticing how often I thought “I hate how I look” or imagining other people’s judgements was eye-opening. I started telling myself I loved myself, even (and especially) when I didn’t feel it, and eventually I believed it. Flaws turned into unique traits — Game of Thrones fans could come to me for epic fantasy recommendations, my short stature makes it easier to weave through a crowd, and my stretch marks are a non-issue. Just like I realized that Ethel’s slow acceleration promoted safe driving, I slowly found beauty in my weirdness.
I still struggle (don’t we all?) to accept myself, but if I can focus on the best parts of an imperfect car, I can focus on the parts of myself that I’m proud of without getting sidetracked by the things that aren’t perfect. I can make repairs where they’re needed, I can keep running in tough situations. I can love myself like I loved my first car — unconditionally, unendingly, imperfections and all.
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