LOVING YOURSELF 101?

Words by Casey Hynes.

The first big insecurity I can recall having about myself was my glasses. I first got them when I was 8, and at the time, I was excited. I’d be able to see everything clearly around me again, and read my books without squinting, and Harry Potter wore them, so I thought,  they couldn't be that bad? 

I can’t pinpoint exactly when I decided they were no longer something to be proud of. It could have been through one of my television programmes, where the clever but annoying girls, who always wore glasses, were disliked and dismissed. Or one of those films where the already-pretty female protagonists suddenly becomes pretty once the glasses come off. 

Even my own Dad, who had always worn glasses, disliked wearing them. 

Nonetheless, by age 14 I bought my first set of contact lenses, after the second of two try-on sessions in Specsavers resulted in my finally managing to get them on my eyes without crying from the sting. 

Finally, I’d look better. 

But contact lenses were for special occasions, so glasses and the feeling  that came from an unknown source of being ugly that  came with wearing them, remained my norm.

Weight, growing up, had never really been an issue from me. But my skinny face seemed to highlight to me how big my ears and nose were, and suddenly somehow that mattered. I had nice parts too, like my eyes and my smile, but my glasses covered my eyes so they didn’t count and my smile was too crooked. 

I wish I could remember the day these thoughts started. I wish they had never started at all. I know they didn’t happen all at once. But they did happen, one by one, slowly but surely. 

Puberty brought more turmoil. While some friends began to feel insecure over their breasts and hips and thighs now growing larger, some like me began to feel insecure over our bodies staying exactly the same. All of us different but joined together in feeling out of sorts with our physiques. 

Post-puberty, post-secondary, then, brought along the weight. At first, there came delight that I finally looked like other girls - ‘real women’. Then as it continued, it was apparently too much weight. And what could be done about that but worry?

Where did these notions come from? Or rather, where didn’t they come from, really? 

As children, we mirror the world around us, and we learn through mimicry. In the world in which we live, insecurity and lack of confidence binds us together, as much as it divides us. It sells magazines. Provides food for thought, fodder for films and media of any kind. Gives us something to complain about with our friends, and something to withhold from our enemies. Humbles us, which is good, because god forbid we’re too confident. 

Why does appearance matter? Surely appearance means so very little in the grand scheme of things, until we’re taught to consider it, notice it, value it, in so many ways. If we delve deep into the psyche of it all, it’s more than likely related to control - control of confidence and power means control of people, even in something as miniscule as how someone looks and how someone feels about themselves. 

In some not-so-minor way, attractiveness has become almost like a currency, and we’ve all been taught the value of money. What attractiveness can buy you is seemingly respect, in a society that does not show respect for those who don’t fit in with the ‘standard’ of beauty. Worthiness and value is determined by factors such as skin colour, weight, able-bodiedness or ability to fit into gender roles. If you’re not in, you’re out. Even then, what attractiveness gives you isn’t always kindness or respect. Sometimes it leads to those who are considered traditionally beautiful being placed on pedestals, and valued purely for their looks alone, reduced to objects for viewing pleasure, or things to want or covet. One section of society is considered items to possess, one section considered less. 

But I won’t continue to theorise too much here, that’s not the point of this article. 

Insecurity in one area of your life, especially one in how you look and therefore how you are perceived by the world, bleeds out and touches every other part of your life. It creates more insecurities and fuels self-doubt in your abilities, your relationships, your self-worth and your cleverness. Over time, after starting to notice all of these things ‘wrong’ with my appearance, I became more shy and awkward, eager to please others but nervous when it came to talking to others. Yearning to be noticed, but also not wanting to be seen at all. Maybe it wasn’t noticed on the outside, but every time I spoke, anxiety would seize me up on the inside, for fear I’d annoy someone and carry out another transgression against the world, other than my appearance. With all of this, liking yourself and loving yourself becomes harder, nigh impossible. All of it boils away inside, until all you feel is wretchedness. 

Is there a way to overcome this? 

Of course, there must be, but I’m no self-help book author. I don’t know all the answers, though I doubt anyone does (especially self-help book authors). All I can do is tell you what I try to do to change my perception of myself, now that I’ve become aware of this unwanted self-loathing of my appearance, and my person-hood. 

Over the last year, not-so-successfully, I’ve mainly been trying to help myself by trying to shift my thought patterns about myself. Even now, it’s not easy - while writing this so far, I’ve felt so narcissistic and self-absorbed, for simply writing what I think and for ‘presuming’ what I’m saying or writing may be of value to anyone - not an ideal way to think about one’s writing when one writes for an online blog, really. Instead, starting with the root cause - my appearance - has helped.

I am surrounded by beautiful older people, and I always have been, as a result of being looked after by my Nana during the weekdays as a child. The beauty of these people, to me, has never been just skin deep, but is rooted in their vitality and their spark for life, their hard work and strength, and their humour and compassion. But I have encountered many women and men of an older age who don’t consider themselves nice to look at. The kicker is, many of them never really did when they were younger either. They’ve spent their whole lives with a low opinion of their looks, but now they look at images of themselves in their 20s, 30s, 40s, and they remark how pretty they were, how great they did look. And when they talk about it, you can see not only nostalgia, but regret in their eyes. They still look after their appearance now, and take pride in it, but for many the unhappiness with it has remained. Seeing all of these wonderful people dislike a part of themselves like that for so long sucks. 

What’s the point in just liking how I looked in my 20s, when I’m in my 80s? 

Why shouldn’t I like it now?

I don’t want to hate how I look forever, so trying to love myself and who I am now and accept my body for what it is - a body - are necessary changes I need to make. 

Though I’ve never seen the show, bar occasional snippets being promo’d on Facebook, there’s one scene in E4’s My Mad Fat Diary that always gets me, where Rae’s therapist, Kester, tells her to imagine her 10 year old self, and tells her to call her all of the nasty things she calls her present self. 

I recently saw a picture of myself taken during 6th class, an awkward time for us all, and I distinctly remember despising how I looked in the picture when I saw it back then, aged 12. I hated my teeth and my nose, my crooked glasses and my skinny wrists, and my hair, which the local hairdresser had attempted to cut into a side-fringe - emphasis on attempted. 

Now I see this picture almost 12 years later, and honestly, I look fine, maybe even a bit sweet. It makes me sad knowing how unhappy I was with myself even then, and now starting to see the tiny human being I once was through another lens. 

My two youngest sisters aren’t yet 12, and the fact they may think similar thoughts about their little selves makes my heart weep. I feel the same way now about my younger self. But not my current self. 

Not yet. 

Why can’t I extend this same kindness and care to my current self? If I’m being very, very honest, it’s because I do not think I deserve it. 

I think we often look at ourselves and just see the flesh bag staring back, with all of its mortal sin within, and what we perceive as tenfold blemishes and imperfections on the outside. We pick out all the little bits we hate, both inside and out, and that’s all we see. 

Very rarely do we see what others do - through the warm eyes of family and friendship. Though we shouldn’t rely on the approval or perceptions of others for our own self-worth, I think it acts as a good stepping stone towards having it, and by recognising that others don’t see us the way we see ourselves, it can help to shatter the overall disillusion. Besides, it’s nice to know that others like us. 

And sometimes, it’s nice to know that it’s all just inside our heads. Sometimes, it is just us. 

I will never truly be able to see the person I am in the eyes of my little sisters, or my parents or grandparents, or my friends. But on days when it’s hard to care about myself, it can be a little easier trying to care for someone I know people I love care about. Here lies another stepping stone too. It’s so much easier to like yourself, when you know that people you like, like you. It’s validating. We shouldn’t rely on it solely, though. We need to build on it further ourselves, so we can rely on ourselves. 

I’m trying really hard to do this, by doing things that make me happy, because I do deserve it. 

Sometimes this means just taking time to chill and play my Switch, sometimes reading a book, sometimes spending all of my money online shopping. Amongst other things, of course. 

Everyone usually takes the piss out of the candle-and-face-mask mental health fix, but looking after myself, whether it’s through skincare or food or sleep or relaxation, reinforces the fact that I deserve to be taken care of, especially by myself. It should go without saying, really. If you don’t like something, you won’t look after it. If you do, you will.  

I’m actively trying to focus on things I do like about myself, and building on them, while trying to change things I don’t like. I do like my sense of humour, how affectionate I can be and how I’ve grown to get on very easily with others, without being too much of a doormat. I don’t like the anxious, bitter, angry side of myself, so I’m trying to find ways to express negative emotions healthily, and not just hold them in ‘til I burst. It’s all a work in progress.

There’s no immediate fix to not liking yourself, though I wish there was. Just because I decided to aspire to self-love doesn’t mean it automatically exists. 

Rome wasn’t built in a day. 

Trying to love myself is a day-by-day process. It’s a siege, not a battle. I have to keep pushing forward, even when I fail. 

And I do fail, quite often.

Truth be told, the last three weeks have been a big enough setback for me. I’ve felt really shit, sometimes looked shit, and been very stressed with work and lockdown yet again, which has meant a boatload of dislike, self-doubt and anxiety in all of life’s aspects. When I don’t like myself, I don’t see how the world can either, and it’s a very isolating train of thought to find myself in. Liking myself is an active pursuit, and when I’m drained of all energy, its position on the list of priorities plummets.

But, just before writing this, I started to try again. I had to. At the end of it all, when the sun sets, the last person you have is yourself. And I like to keep good company. If someone else treated me like shit, I’d probably walk away. If someone treated my loved ones the same, I’d be raging. I need to keep that same energy for myself.

Appearance and looks. Beauty. Does it all matter? 

Yes and no. 

We’re aware now, more than ever, the negative impact focusing so intensely on attractiveness has done to us. Things are changing, slowly and with resistance.

Just declaring something as unimportant, or highlighting how it's a created thought and not inherently true, does not rid us of it. Active movements against this hyperfocus on looks, and the unrealistic standards of beauty applied to everyone, are necessary, and will be until the job is done.

But it’s okay for things to matter to us too. 

You can care about maintaining your appearance, while knowing that may not apply to other people, and that’s okay. 

You can be a minimalist person who doesn’t care about looks at all, and still acknowledge and respect that some people do, and that’s okay.

Love yourself, and find what matters to you, and to you alone. For you.

And most importantly, of course, for BTS because they said I had to. I can’t bear to disappoint.

I’m trying to teach the 12 year old Casey inside me that there are many, many more important things than just being pretty. Health. Happiness. Hard work. Goodness. Love. I can do all of those things. I can be many things.

We’re an amalgamation of different bits. Great things, not-so great things. If we continue to try being kind to ourselves and others, maybe it’ll all fall into place.

Fingers crossed.

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