Self-Worth By Way Of A Google Calendar Reminder

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“I will give myself to you

As soon as you start to let go”

I drew on the wood floor with the toe of my boot - they could be figure eights or infinity signs. Tonight, I was betting on infinity. 

I both knew how I’d ended up in this seat (the one that found me front row and in the presence of one of the most ceiling breaking women of our time) and also I had no idea how I ended up here. On my heart was the weight of a question that’d been mine for too long — at what point did I lose (or win?) the battle of convincing myself that I wasn’t enough? At what point had my world — the relationships I am half of, the achievements I can credit myself for, the stability I have harvested in my life — stopped being enough tangible proof that beyond the material was a woman who knew all she was worthy of? 

The backseat of the Uber pool had me pressed up against the left door and looking out to New Jersey. 

I think that it happened at some point in my teens. I think there was only one voice speaking worth into me and it was my own, which too often I discredited when it was convenient for me. Because how easy was it to believe all the ways we don’t feel we measure up when there is no one to dispute us? 

Maybe this is why I like to be challenged in conversation because at least then there’s someone on the other end who can say, “listen, you’re super smart, but you’re also super wrong.” when the voices in my head became too negative, too heavy.

The narratives we create in our minds can be so powerful and sheer will teaches us that we can fit anything into them. At first we exert so much energy in trying to fit all the bad into those narratives, but over time our hardest turns into a flick of a wrist, smooth and seamless and unfortunate. 

I feel the tears start to pool as I type out a text — “I don't know at what point I got lost, ya know. I don't know at what point I convinced myself I wasn't enough, that I'm lacking, especially when my mom was consistent in loving me and in reminding me of my self-worth.” 

I run my thumb up and down the backside of the ring on my middle finger. I’ve always known my worth, it’s just been easier to sit back than fight for it at times. The ring reminds me of that on the daily. That it’s reversed, front side in the back, just sends an even stronger message to me every time I touch it. 

Infinity. It’s what I’ve always been worth. 

Endless love, it’s what I’m giving myself. 

“You’ve been so busy taking care of other people, reminding them of their self-worth and nobody was around to keep reminding you after your mom was gone.”

Gutted. It’s the only word I could think of as I scooted over towards the right side of the Uber to get out. I couldn’t look at the text again until I was in my apartment. There was too much truth sitting there. 

The people in our lives have so much power over how we view ourselves. To appreciate our own self-worth is a skill set that needs to get encouraged by others, honed by ourselves. A daily reminder on your Google Calendar needs to be set, but still we fail at adding it in, instead we tattoo all over our bodies all of the reasons we aren’t worthy. 

We choose needle-led, time-intensive self-hurt over the five seconds it would take to write and set, “I am worthy,” as your 08:18am reminder. 

Minutes after getting out of the Uber, I found myself in my pajamas with a plate of vegetable fried rice next to me and tears streaming down my cheeks. My comforter had a stain courtesy of my dog. My socks kept coming off because I succeed at many things, but I fail at wearing socks. 

People will sell you self-worth as the prize at the end of a course or the final line at the end of a book. And, I don’t know, maybe some people find it there, but I didn’t. I found it in the process. 

Back in October, I started challenging the lies I told myself. November found me overcompensating. December taught me to surrender. January found me in the quiet because I was the only thing left to find. February is when I fell in love with who I was becoming. March taught me about intentional joy. 

April, it’s about infinite self-worth. A daily practice. A minute by minute meditation. Wherever I am, however I come. 

Old pajamas. One sock on. Smelling like the vegetable fried rice I’d just nuked for 30 seconds in a paper plate because dishes were the last thing I wanted to do. 

Tonight, I was betting on infinity.