A humiliating lesson

When I was a baby, my mother wanted me to do well in school, so she taught me to read. I caught onto it quickly. Most of what I remember from my early childhood is Nanay (mom) taking me to the library, where I would borrow tons and tons of books. At the age of six I had picked up a book Nanay had already finished reading, The Anastasia Syndrome and Other Stories by Mary Higgins Clark. They were very interesting stories; the first short story, I remember, was about this historical writer who was separated from her family (and ultimately orphaned) during World War II, and the second story was about this guy who was totally obsessed with a girl from high school. Anyway, all this reading led me to be known as the smartest person in my kindergarten class.

Reading and intelligence wasn’t the only thing I was known for. People liked my handwriting and drawings–I’d been practicing my drawing by copying my dad’s drawings. Then my mom signed me up for the musical theater club after school. We put on an original play (I forgot what it was called) where I danced and sang “I’m a Little Teapot”. Afterwards I became known for singing, dancing, and acting.

In third grade my parents put me in a gifted program in another school. There I found more people like me, and naturally there was more competition. I remember in fourth grade, I was crying once because I was jealous of my best friend, who was smarter than me (I know it’s a petty reason). But I was still known for the things I was known for in my old school. I’d acquired two new talents as well: writing stories and playing the violin. In middle school, however, this started to change. There was even more competition because this wasn’t just a gifted program; it was a highly gifted program. I wasn’t the most popular girl around. I wasn’t hated, but I didn’t find a lot of the popular kids to be people I wanted to be friends with. By seventh grade, I was no longer known as much for the things I was known for in elementary school, except for the violin. More popular kids took my place. And then in eighth grade, even the violin reputation went to arguably the most popular girl, the student council president. 

I remember when I was little, I asked Nanay the meaning of ordinary. She told me and as part of an example, she said, “Tatay [dad] and I are ordinary. But you’re not ordinary. You’re special.” Well, now I didn’t feel special anymore. I too had slipped away into a world of ordinary. 

Yes, it’s quite clear that I was still known for a few talents, such as drawing and the violin. And as someone advised me, this hadn’t made me any worse at any of my talents. What had happened, though, was that up to this point I had taken the “believe in yourself” phrase with a grain of salt. I was quite spoiled. My self-esteem had been built on this foundation: the praises of others. When the praise subsided, the foundation wasn’t as strong. In the long run, it was a good experience for me, who had grown up being bit of a spoiled Special Snowflake™. I had to use self-affirmation and really work hard at the things I was good at. Frankly, I know this sounds bad, but I was not used to any of this, it was a humiliating moment. I suppose I was at an advantage for the longest time.

I realized that in most cases, this is how it works. You have your big moment and then people start directing their attention to a fresh face who may or may not be better than you. Praise is temporary. Therefore, you have to be careful not to rely on solely that. It needs to come from within. And for me, this was the greatest lesson of all.

Why do people take selfies so much?

Nowadays, most people can’t do a single thing without taking a selfie first. Selfies are the norm. Go on any social networking site, and you are bound to come across a selfie sooner or later, if not right now. Instagram, especially, is a particular victim of selfies. Among the myriad pictures of nails, sunsets, dogs, babies and outfit-of-the-day, you’ve got selfies.

There are loads of people who take selfies. Some just take a selfie for their profile picture. Others hit the motherlode when you look at their walls. These people include, especially, celebrities and people with low self-esteem. Sometimes it’s all right to take a selfie, because then you’re at a special event, you just won something, and the like:

 

 

But sometimes people take selfies just for no reason, or to fetch compliments. When you hit the like button, you’re basically sending a compliment. A lot of people who take selfies for compliments seem to have low self-esteem. Are selfies the new therapy for low self-esteem?

Studies show that taking more selfies can throw relationships to the wayside. People who often post selfies become more focused on themselves and their looks, and less caring about others. (I even read this article about this rude police officer in Turkey who looked the other way–posted a selfie–while a guy who’d been trying to commit suicide for months was finally successful.) Also, while selfie evangelists say, selfies are good because they empower women, I think it would teach people–not just women–to worry more about their physical looks rather than who they really are as a person. The selfie can only say how you look, not who you are. You could be what people call ugly but also be a person capable of the production behind a box-office Frozen success or the author of the next Harry Potter.

And I’m pretty sure therapy is not therapy if it involves doing something at the expense of others. So, to all the selfie posters with low self-esteem, I know this is not therapy, but:

The baby panda has spoken.