One of the hardest things about growing up, I think, is not realizing your strengths, but rather, realizing your weaknesses. And then, accepting them as part of you, not necessarily something in need to be gotten rid of.
As a teenage girl in Sweden in the early 2000’s, I was fed from all over by messages about believing in myself, allowing myself to think I was good, being secure and independent. And I guess this is good, that we get to hear it from so many places, because many girls really have trouble trusting themselves. It can be hard, finding that confidence, especially in a world where the pressure on young women is so incredibly high.
However, for me, it wasn’t. Hard, I mean. I don’t know if it was because of me being an only child for the first 14 years of my life, or if I just happened to be surrounded by the best combination of family-teachers-parent’s friends growing up, but I have never doubted that I’m good at stuff. I’ve always been encouraged, and told that I’m going to succeed with whatever I choose to do with my life. Trouble is, this far, this is for the most part also true.
I’m afraid, though, that this constant encouragement and boosting and success has led to me having a very low tolerance for weakness. In others, to some extent, but most certainly in myself. I don’t really get happy if I succeed with something, because that was just expected, but if I fail, well, then the world falls apart. And because I can’t stand myself when I’m not at my A-Game, I have trouble believing that anyone else would stand me either.
When I’m not being witty or charming or intelligent or beautiful, when I don’t have the answers to all the questions, when I’m needy and craving attention. When I’m excited and talk too much or too fast or incoherently, or when I’m feeling insecure and am being cold and self-important or don’t talk at all. When I’m not cool and laid back, when I refer everything to myself, when I’m a know-it-all and can’t take being either right or wrong with grace. When I am stubborn or stingy. When I sing. When I’m lazy or tired and can’t even be bothered to be nice to people.
Why would anyone stand me then?
I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to change things that cause us trouble or in other ways are destructive to us, like addictions or alienating people in our lives. You should know that I’ve done my fair share of at least the second of those. But there are personality traits that aren’t necessarily bad in the long run. They just make us not perfect. Rather, they make us interesting. Or most of the time they at least don’t outweigh all the good parts that we have to offer, to the people that choose stay around.
I’m not saying that accepting your flaws in any way is a universal obstacle when children grow up. I’m sure there are lots of people that don’t mind at all, that they’re flawed, and they know they’re good people anyway, all things considered. I guess I’m only saying I’m having trouble with it, still. I’m a little bit too loud or I tell a bad joke or hold a monologue on misconceptions about climate change, and afterwards I think I’ve been insufferable and fear no-one will like me anymore. Not because I’m not good at what I’m good at, but because my flaws make me less than perfect.
All the incredible people that I’ve managed to collect over the years, all the very flawed, but still so amazingly awesome friends that I have, should be enough to convince me that all those flaws that I carry around, they aren’t really any flaws at all. They’re part of me, and the fact that my friends are my friends means that those less good parts are outweighed by all the other, great parts. And everyone is never going to love me, there are always people that are going to think I’m stiff or brag too much or have a weird sense of humor or am way too loud, but that’s OK. I’m going to have to accept that, as well as my own flaws.
I haven’t yet, though. I guess I’m not fully grown up yet.
Katja Malmborg 