tamarjacobson

I have been thinking about my age-old problem of trying to match up, or probably more accurately: feeling lesser than … 

Indeed, when I name it lesser than, I find myself haunted by the term. And, lately, I ponder it constantly. I have decided to explore the feeling to its core, and am realizing where it comes from originally in my earliest emotional memory. As a result, memories are flooding back as if let out of some kind of cage stored in the basement of my mind. At times, it is painful and I find myself choking down tears that suddenly rise out of nowhere at any given moment seemingly beyond my control. Mostly, though, I observe the feeling as it arises, and get to know when and how it occurs. It is as if I am conducting some type of study – a personal ethnography – on my Self. I take mental notes and silently interview me: "When do I remember feeling like that? Where was I? How old was I? How did I feel at the time? Why?" … and so on.

I even made a "Lesser than list:"

Less:

• Intelligent
• kind
• courageous
• organized
• beautiful
• accomplished
• successful
• interesting
• attractive
• sexy
• competent
• worthy
• deserving
• humble
• ethical
• moral
• pure
• good
• fashionable

 … of a/an … 

• mother
• scholar
• writer
• teacher
• administrator
• woman
• wife
• sister
• daughter
• friend
• gardener
• athlete
• yogi
• reader
• activist

Feeling lesser than, accompanies me in my interactions with others. It resides as a constantly, simmering, general anxiety. It does not seem to matter if I am with friends, colleagues or family members. From somewhere at the back of my mind a voice tells me that I am not as good as, and probably can never be as good as almost everyone else I come into contact with. 

It is very much like a constant competition, and makes it difficult for me to let down my guard, and trust that others will accept me as I am. Worse than that, is the fact that I am not in touch with the reality of who I have become these past 62 years.

I am amazed at how stuck I can be – finding myself emotionally at age 10, or even younger at 7 or 8! At those moments, I wish that Cher would come along and give me a slap saying, "Snap out of it!"

The more I befriend the feeling and get to know its roots and characteristics, I find that slowly, slowly, I am starting to ssnnaaaapp out of it. It reminds me of those tenacious weeds in the garden. I pull out one, and realize that it is attached to a large, complicated root system deeply embedded in the earth. In order to get it out completely I will have to dig very deep down, and who knows where it will end up? … maybe even in the neighbor's yard!

I have yet to understand and, harder still, accept, that it is not about me being lesser or more than …

 … but rather that it is okay for me to be different …