Improving self-esteem
Just shy of my third birthday, a man entered my life. Up until then, it had been just me and my Mom roughing it out together. But, one day she introduced me to her boyfriend, who quickly became her husband once she discovered she was pregnant. This man seemed nice enough, even if I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of sharing my Mom with a stranger.
Unfortunately, this man, my stepdad, had a number of demons he was battling. Before he had ever moved in with us, he had a drunk-driving accident, and shattered his pelvis and broke his hip. As I’ve previously written, this led to a long-term opioid addiction (and possible untreated head trauma). Whether this was the cause of his rages, or it was something deeper in his history, I’ll never know. But I do know what happened to me.
I was a bratty child. Fiercely independent, keenly curious, and generally defiant, my stepfather and I quickly butted heads while my Mom spent her days at work supporting the family. While I’d been punished before by my mother (spankings when I was naughty), my stepfather’s punishments were something different. I was terrified of him. Even from a young age, it seemed his discipline came from a place of rage and not correcting.
When my stepdad got mad at me, he’d squeeze me under my armpits lift me up so I was face-to-face with his snarling and snapping teeth, he’d threaten to “throw me through the fucking window” and though he only ever threw me around the house, I believed him. He pushed me down the stairs, he was quick to snap to violence. I was terrified of him. Of my home. But, at the same time, I assumed that this was how all Dads behaved. I didn’t know any better, and certainly didn’t think an adult could do wrong.
By six, during a weekend at my grandparents, his parents, I couldn’t take it anymore. As my Grandma Kath and Grandpa Joe were tucking me into bed, explaining to me that I had to go home the next day, I started to cry. I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to live with them. After some gentle prodding, my grandparents pulled out of me what was going. They were horrified. My Grandpa Joe—a scary surly Italian dude—told me he’d take care of it. I’m not sure what my Grandpa Joe said or did to my stepdad, but he’d never get physically violent with me again.
Unfortunately, by this time, the damage had been done. Not only was my fear paramount, but I’d long taken the insults he hurled at me to heart. I was a very bad girl. I was ‘fucked in the head.’ That’s why I was punished. It was like there was a deficiency within me that he could see that no one else could, and I came to believe I deserved every punishment I received.
Once the physical violence stopped, the emotional abuse ramped up to full force. It was his only way to control and subjugate me. He would tell me it was time for a talk, sit me down in the living room, and berate me for hours while I sobbed and agreed with everything he said. As a child, I was a thief, a liar, a fucking idiot, an evil girl. I was going to grow up to be nothing. I was worthless. I was a bad person. By puberty, I was a skank, I was easy, I was a drug addict, I was crazy.
Though I left home at 15, the years I had spent with my stepdad did a number on my self-esteem. Even when I left him (physically) far behind me, my inner critic always spoke in his scary growl. Heaped on top of my stepdad’s indoctrination were the feelings of worthlessness I carried due to my biological father leaving before I was ever born.
By my teens, I was a stereotype. I was the girl with low self-esteem and “Daddy issues.” Like so many other young women with similar histories, I looked for love in all the wrong places. I wanted to be accepted, cared for, and it didn’t matter by who. Anyone that showed the slightest interest in me was a potential saviour, regardless of any rapidly waving red flags. Needless to say, promiscuity didn’t help raise my self-esteem and put me into some dangerous positions. I was raped by more than one man. I dated men in their twenties and thirties while I was still underage. But, if someone was willing to sleep with me, that means they must like me, right? And maybe if they liked me enough, if I kept them happy, I’d have someone to fight in my corner.
When I did manage to get into my first serious relationship, I was a mess. I was so desperate to hang onto my partner I changed key aspects of myself just to please him: I stopped wearing makeup, I apologized relentlessly, I twisted myself into a pretzel to anticipate his ever-changing requirements of what he needed in a partner. Friends of mine from this time won’t hesitate to roll their eyes with exasperation whenever I bring up this relationship, exhausted at my inability to leave something that clearly wasn’t healthy for me (my partner was the one to end the relationship).
The repeated rejection from choosing partners who weren’t particularly interested in me or in relationships in general just worsened my self-esteem. It affected my romantic relationships, my friendships, my confidence when it came to my future, my professional success, my personal self-image, and the ability to advocate for myself.
If you genuinely believe, at your core, that you’re a piece of shit, and have spent most of your life operating under that understanding, how can you possibly feel worthy enough to strive for what you want, believe in your abilities, or that you deserve love and safety?
Luckily, by my mid-twenties, I met a genuinely great person who fell in love with me. Despite all the misgivings I had about myself, he saw the good in me that I couldn’t. But, my self-esteem issues deeply affected our relationship (which I wrote about here). Between my partner’s love and support, repeated hospital visits, irregular and then finally long-term therapy, I found the tools I needed to improve my self-esteem.
Using dialectical behavioural therapy (DBT), a therapy created by Marsha M. Linehan in the 1980s to treat borderline personality disorder (BPD), I challenged my perception of myself during a DBT skills group at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health by reflecting on common myths that often get in the way of effective self-respect. These myths include:
I shouldn’t have to ask or advocate for myself. Others should know what I want.
It’s obvious when my feelings are hurt. I shouldn’t have to tell others when their behaviour caused it.
Other people should like, approve of, support me, and be willing to do more for my needs.
Everybody is lying or can lie.
Getting what I want is more important than how I get it; the ends justify the means.
I can’t afford to have values.
I shouldn’t be fair or respectful if others are not behaving that way toward me.
Revenge will be worth any negative consequences.
The more I challenged these false perceptions, the more the tools for building up my self-esteem started to take shape. In order to build self-confidence, it became clear I had to advocate for myself regardless of any overarching fear of having my needs rejected. I needed to accept that not everyone was going to like me, and believe what people said to me when they said it instead of looking for some hidden meaning. It was important that I identified and held true to my values while moving through challenging circumstances if I wanted to walk away from these situations with a sense of pride. This all might sound a bit obvious to those who have a better self-relationship, but it was an illuminating and effective exercise for someone like me, who lacked the skills to learn to appreciate myself.
Certainly, the most difficult time to maintain any sort of confidence was during interpersonal conflicts. I caved in easily to others—for the sake of maintaining the peace, putting an end to the disagreement, or simply because I didn’t feel worthy of having wants or needs. During the occasions I didn’t want to cave in, I was overwhelmed by despair and frustration because I had no idea how to successfully vouch for myself or my goals. I grew up learning that self-advocacy was dangerous. When I discovered the DBT skill, DEAR MAN, I finally found a blueprint for navigating interpersonal conflicts in a way I could be proud of:
Describe: Whenever I find myself in a conflict, it can be really helpful to describe my perception of the situation to the other person (while sticking to the facts). An example provided in the DBT Skills Training Handouts and Worksheets book by Linehan is, “you told me you would be home by dinner but you didn’t get here until 11.”
Express: Once the other person has the basic facts to understand my perception of the situation, I can share my feelings and opinions about my experience. In the past, I’ve started by expressing my feelings assuming the other person would understand why I was upset or emotional, or simply describing the situation with the assumption that they would know it would be upsetting to me. No one is a mind reader. This is also an important place to use “I feel” or “I want” phrases instead of “you should” or “you didn’t” so the other person doesn’t feel they have to be defensive.
Assert: This is the part of the skill that I often stumble on—it’s the opportunity to ask for what I want or say no to what I don’t. My success at asserting myself can depend a lot on the level of safety I currently feel. It doesn’t have to be a frightening skill to practice though. A lot of the time, this is merely the area where I have the opportunity to advocate for myself.
Reinforce: If I have successfully asserted myself, I can reinforce the value of my assertion by explaining the positive effects of getting my wants or needs met. An example provided in Linehan’s workbook is, “I would be so relieved, and a lot easier to live with, if you do X.”
Mindful: I think the most challenging aspect of fighting with another person, especially a loved one who you have history with, is keeping focused on the goal of the conversation. It’s easy to get sidetracked by hurtful comments, past arguments, or old wounds, but I’ve been a lot more effective in navigating conflict when I maintain my position and don’t get distracted from my goals. There are two strategies I lean on when trying to stay mindful of my goals: being a broken record (literally repeating my opinion over and over again) or ignoring attacks (not responding to criticism and ignoring distractions).
Appear confident: There have been very few times I’ve felt confident while advocating for myself. I also have a terrible poker face—it only takes one look to know exactly what I’m thinking—so this is a good skill for me to practice. By maintaining a confident tone of voice, posture, and making good eye contact, I can give the impression of confidence even when I’d rather be stammering and shrinking into myself (which definitely happens from time to time).
Negotiate: This part of the skill is fairly self-explanatory but comes with a helpful caveat. While being open to negotiating and looking for compromises can be a great way to achieve my goals while advocating for myself, turning the tables can also be exceptionally effective. Often when I ask the other person what they think can be done to address the conflict I discover solutions I hadn’t considered.
As I steadily built up the skills that would improve my ability to advocate for myself, I found plenty of challenging opportunities to practice keeping respect for myself during interpersonal encounters. During a highly-charged conflict, when I’m having a hard time maintaining self-respect or self-esteem, I use the DBT skill, FAST:
Fair: This skill involves being fair to myself and the other person during interpersonal conflicts. I have to balance validating my own feelings and wishes, as well as the other person’s.
Apologies: I’m a textbook over-apologizer (I’d apologize if there was nothing to apologize for), so this skill is very useful, if difficult, for me. Despite its acronym, it’s important not to apologize for setting a boundary, making a request, or merely being alive. I don’t need to apologize for having an opinion or disagreeing with another person, nor do I have to be ashamed (emotionally or physically) when I’m doing this. I also don’t have to invalidate the valid. For example, “I’m sorry for asking,” is a statement I often make where I invalidate a very valid action.
Stick to values: Once I knew what my values were, if I was able to stick to them during conflicts, I could walk away from the encounter proud, regardless of how it ended. I’m still in the process of not selling out my values or integrity for the sake of pleasing the other person or avoiding conflict altogether, even though the act always leaves me feeling shitty about myself.
Truthful: While I’m not the type to lie to get my point across, I used to feel it was important to keep my true feelings out of any conflict, prioritizing the other person’s. By being truthful about how I’m feeling, instead of hiding or devaluing my feelings, I not only feel better about respecting myself and my needs, but the other person has a better sense of what I’m going through and the opportunity to empathize with my experience.
Don’t get me wrong—it’s still an uphill battle when it comes to my relationship with myself, my ability to advocate for myself, and my self-esteem, but since finding DBT and engaging in other practices that promote self-love (yoga, Internal Family Systems therapy, Somatic Experiencing) I’ve been a lot more confident when it comes to putting myself out there, my relationships have deepened and hold much more nuance than they used to, and it’s so much easier to leave toxic relationships behind. Hell! Look at what you’re reading right now. Had I not improved my self-worth, I would have never had the bravery to be so openly vulnerable to write about my mental health struggles and personal history.
Mad History
This issue: Daddy issues
Group photo in front of Clark University: Front row: Sigmund Freud, G. Stanley Hall, C. G. Jung; Back row: Abraham A. Brill, Ernest Jones, Sándor Ferenczi. Photo taken for Clark University
I have a complicated relationship with the term “Daddy issues.” Colloquially, as any human who hasn’t been living deep within the woods is aware, the expression tends to refer to women who have poor relationships with their father figures, low self-esteem, and a tendency toward promiscuity or dating older men. It’s certainly not a positive designation. At times I’ve bucked against the stereotype, or I’ve sadly or begrudgingly accepted the title, or I’ve seethed at becoming a statistic.
So, who do I direct my anger toward for coining this disparaging turn of phrase? Surprise, surprise: Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung.
"Daddy issues” seems to have been adapted from the term, “father complex,” first appearing in Freud’s article The Future Prospects of Psycho-Analytic Therapy in 1910. He wrote, “in male patients the most important resistances in the treatment seem to be derived from the father complex,” attributing the coinage of “complex” to Carl Jung. It’s probably important to note here that in a 1908 letter, published in William McGuire’s book, The Freud/Jung Letters, Jung wrote to Freud asking his mentor to let him “enjoy [their] friendship not as one between equals but as that of father and son.” But I digress… Freud continue to explore the father complex in his case studies with a patient he dubbed the Rat Man, and would use the term once more in Totem and Taboo.
While Freud focused on the relationship between fathers and sons, it was Jung who believed father complexes could affect women as well as men. In his 1915 book, The Theory of Psychoanalysis, Jung proposed the Electra complex, analogous to the Oedipal complex, resulting in women who are unusually seductive or submissive (from poor self-esteem). Freud would go on to reject Jung’s term as inaccurate, insisting that girls solved their complexes differently than boys, though the concept would clearly gain traction.
It shouldn’t be very surprising that Freud and Jung’s father-son dynamic would lead to a permanent fracture in their relationship. In the book, Freud: A Life for Our Time, Peter Gay catalogues the turbulent end to their association, and Jung’s rejection of an expression he had once helped to coin:
Having for years used the term ‘father complex,’ and having supplied flamboyant evidence in his own conduct to support the theory, Jung now rejected it as Viennese name calling. He noted, with pain, that psychoanalysts were all too inclined to exploit their profession for the purposes of denunciation.
Recommended Reading
White Noise
By: Tom White
In my quest to put myself out there more, I’ve been trying to better engage with the Substack community. I was delighted to discover Tom White’s newsletter, White Noise. White writes prose and nonfiction insights into life, including living with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) and Tourette’s syndrome. His piece, Standing Firm, pairs beautifully with the topic of self-confidence. In it, White details his experience as a ball boy at the US Open, a job that requires one to stand still (a challenging requirement for those with Tourette’s), and one that he tackles with a beautiful optimism and pride. As White writes, “After an eleven-year struggle, I have grown to realize that what I have is simply a condition, a minuscule part of my confident whole.”
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