I know what it is like to be on the left side of the scale. I was born pretty far down that left side, into poverty and dispair. at -4 or -5 without knowing much about life.
After I had be placed in a foster home, at first I was excited. I was nowhere on the other side, but I was going to live in a house and that was exciting. That was until my new dad, my foster dad, laid down the law to my brother, sister, and I. In uncertain terms he explained the punishment we would receive if we stepped out of line would be to be taken back to the place from which we came, an institution for juveniles, not orphans.
Even though I felt a sense of security because I was getting my basic needs met (food, shelter, and clothing), I felt afraid that if I did anything wrong I would be taken back to the place that had a chain-link fence with razor or barbed wire strung across the top around the three sides of the courtyard . I never wanted to go back there, ever again. So what this new dad told us sent me further down the scale.
I felt so much fear, there was no way to feel love if any love had been given love, but it wasn't. My brother and sister were apparently further down the scale than I was, I think, because the two of them, my sister no older than four years old, were scheming to fight against the rules.
Having lived on the streets, slept in cars, and in the alley against the dumpster, getting food however we could, running the streets days and nights, my brother felt a lot of resentment at being given orders. He was used to freedom and didn't want rules. And what made it worse for him was that this new dad told him that he and his wife didn't want a boy but he was part of the package. I looked at my brother, saw very sad eyes and nearly cried for him.
In my teens, life was even more difficult. I had friends at school who went to dances, football games, parties, sleepovers, and had a lot of freedom. Most of the girls were either cheerleaders or colorguards or majorettes. I desparately wanted to do those things but didn't get to do any of it, not even one time. When asked why I couldn't do whatever it was at the time, I was always given the threat of being taken back to that place if I didn't like things the way they were there. Told how grateful I should be that I had a place to live always followed the threat. I was grateful. But I wanted to do some of the things other teenage girls did for fun.
Worse yet, I was being sexually abusing me on a regular basis by my foster dad. That started at age 13. At first I had to "service" him. But once I had a bedroom in the basement, which I welcomed because I was away from everyone, especially him, he started coming down to my bedroom in the middle of the night three, four, sometimes five nights a week. The first time he pulled my covers back and woke me out of a deep sleep, I was appalled, stunned, and furious, but too afraid of him to open my mouth and say anything.
That went on until I left there.
I'm telling you this, becuase I want you to know that I, too, was on the left side of the scale. I know what it is like to feel hopeless.
My foster dad wasn't the only one who sexually abused me. I had already been sexually abused by older cousins who threated to tell my foster mom that I asked to do what they were making me do, if I didn't do it. Everyone knew about my foster parents' threat and because I believed they would say something and I would be taken back, I did it. (See the article on Learned Helplessness)
So, the far end of the scale was looking good to me. I didn't do anything self-destruction to my body, but I did go to sleep every night, wishing I wouldn't wake up in the morning. That's pretty far down the scale. The left side of the scale.
So what happend to my brother and sister? My brother was taken back to that place when he was 14, and then ended up spending most of his teen and adult years in prison. My sister became a prescription drug addict and committed suicide at age 35.
I took a different route. I moved 1500 miles away from where I grew up and started a new life at age 25. I learned that no matter what I accompished in my "hometown" I was then and would continue to be seen as that girl that was a nobody.
In the life I created for myself by becoming a psychologist I was well respected for the work I did and still do. I taught hundreds of women how to build their self-esteem through Building Self-Esteem and many other classes. I gave lectures in both Houston, Texas and surrounding areas, and Santa Monica, California. I got a Certified Alcohol & Drug Counselor (CADAC) license, was co-owner of a center that worked with women who had been abused, took Domestic Violence classes and volunteered to help women in domestic violence situations, and took Spiritual Psychology classes .
But when I go to my "hometown" to class reunions, I'm still treated as though I'm still that victim I was a long time ago. But I know who I am as a person. I had used my time to learn about myself, undo much of the damage that was done to me, and help those individuals who are struggling with many of the issues I dealth with as a young woman. I was coined The Self-Esteem Expert by several of my class members while teaching a Building Self-Esteem classes series in CA, a title I decided to keep.
Working your way down the scale in the other direction is a tough road, I know, but whatever the situation, there is help to be had. I looked at my life and how I went from A to wherever, and made a program out of it......many programs out of it, actually. (See Class Schedule).
That doesn't neccessarily mean I made it to the other side, although I did make it to +3, maybe a +4 at one point in my life, but I easily slid back to the other side when I was faced with certain life issues, such as cancer. Since I was 20 years old, I worked out every day, ate right and took really good care of myself. So when I was told I had cancer, my negative core beliefs kicked in and I began berating myself all over again for not being good enough, not having done enough good things, and so on. There I was, right back on the other side of the scale. Being bald definitely didn't help the situation.
I knew what I was doing to myself. Of course, I was going through a grief process at first. I was losing that wonderful healthy body I thought I had until I got this news. Now, I was giving all of the control of that body to a doctor who said I needed chemo treatements for six months and then a bone marrow transplant. But I was now feeling less than. My shame and anger did not subside until I reached about a -3 or -4. I stopped. I stayed in that place for several months, until I had a bone marrow transplant. Just like when I went back to work 10 days after I had my son, I went back to work 10 days after I got home from a month-long stay in the hospital for the transplant. I went through exercises I developed and use in my Master Your Self-Esteem class on a daily basis. It took a while, but, eventually, I could feel myself moving back in the right direction again. Literally.
So..... you can go back and forth on the scale. Know that just because you're happy one day, or one week, or even one month, you're not necessarily on the right side of the scale. A new relationship, marriage, a relocation, promotion or a better job, all can make us feel elated. But that's not what determines where you are on the scale. It's how you are when you're alone with yourself, or in challenging situations. It's how you feel and react in difficult times. Those are the true tests of your level of self-esteem.
During my many years of working with women, I've heard so many stories of hard times. Living with an abusive boyfriend or husband, taking care of a sick parent, having an illness, loss of a loved one, being in a car accident, natural disasters, violent attacks or accidents, military combat, sexual assult, and physical abuse are all challenging situations.
So, where are you on the scale?
After I had be placed in a foster home, at first I was excited. I was nowhere on the other side, but I was going to live in a house and that was exciting. That was until my new dad, my foster dad, laid down the law to my brother, sister, and I. In uncertain terms he explained the punishment we would receive if we stepped out of line would be to be taken back to the place from which we came, an institution for juveniles, not orphans.
Even though I felt a sense of security because I was getting my basic needs met (food, shelter, and clothing), I felt afraid that if I did anything wrong I would be taken back to the place that had a chain-link fence with razor or barbed wire strung across the top around the three sides of the courtyard . I never wanted to go back there, ever again. So what this new dad told us sent me further down the scale.
I felt so much fear, there was no way to feel love if any love had been given love, but it wasn't. My brother and sister were apparently further down the scale than I was, I think, because the two of them, my sister no older than four years old, were scheming to fight against the rules.
Having lived on the streets, slept in cars, and in the alley against the dumpster, getting food however we could, running the streets days and nights, my brother felt a lot of resentment at being given orders. He was used to freedom and didn't want rules. And what made it worse for him was that this new dad told him that he and his wife didn't want a boy but he was part of the package. I looked at my brother, saw very sad eyes and nearly cried for him.
In my teens, life was even more difficult. I had friends at school who went to dances, football games, parties, sleepovers, and had a lot of freedom. Most of the girls were either cheerleaders or colorguards or majorettes. I desparately wanted to do those things but didn't get to do any of it, not even one time. When asked why I couldn't do whatever it was at the time, I was always given the threat of being taken back to that place if I didn't like things the way they were there. Told how grateful I should be that I had a place to live always followed the threat. I was grateful. But I wanted to do some of the things other teenage girls did for fun.
Worse yet, I was being sexually abusing me on a regular basis by my foster dad. That started at age 13. At first I had to "service" him. But once I had a bedroom in the basement, which I welcomed because I was away from everyone, especially him, he started coming down to my bedroom in the middle of the night three, four, sometimes five nights a week. The first time he pulled my covers back and woke me out of a deep sleep, I was appalled, stunned, and furious, but too afraid of him to open my mouth and say anything.
That went on until I left there.
I'm telling you this, becuase I want you to know that I, too, was on the left side of the scale. I know what it is like to feel hopeless.
My foster dad wasn't the only one who sexually abused me. I had already been sexually abused by older cousins who threated to tell my foster mom that I asked to do what they were making me do, if I didn't do it. Everyone knew about my foster parents' threat and because I believed they would say something and I would be taken back, I did it. (See the article on Learned Helplessness)
So, the far end of the scale was looking good to me. I didn't do anything self-destruction to my body, but I did go to sleep every night, wishing I wouldn't wake up in the morning. That's pretty far down the scale. The left side of the scale.
So what happend to my brother and sister? My brother was taken back to that place when he was 14, and then ended up spending most of his teen and adult years in prison. My sister became a prescription drug addict and committed suicide at age 35.
I took a different route. I moved 1500 miles away from where I grew up and started a new life at age 25. I learned that no matter what I accompished in my "hometown" I was then and would continue to be seen as that girl that was a nobody.
In the life I created for myself by becoming a psychologist I was well respected for the work I did and still do. I taught hundreds of women how to build their self-esteem through Building Self-Esteem and many other classes. I gave lectures in both Houston, Texas and surrounding areas, and Santa Monica, California. I got a Certified Alcohol & Drug Counselor (CADAC) license, was co-owner of a center that worked with women who had been abused, took Domestic Violence classes and volunteered to help women in domestic violence situations, and took Spiritual Psychology classes .
But when I go to my "hometown" to class reunions, I'm still treated as though I'm still that victim I was a long time ago. But I know who I am as a person. I had used my time to learn about myself, undo much of the damage that was done to me, and help those individuals who are struggling with many of the issues I dealth with as a young woman. I was coined The Self-Esteem Expert by several of my class members while teaching a Building Self-Esteem classes series in CA, a title I decided to keep.
Working your way down the scale in the other direction is a tough road, I know, but whatever the situation, there is help to be had. I looked at my life and how I went from A to wherever, and made a program out of it......many programs out of it, actually. (See Class Schedule).
That doesn't neccessarily mean I made it to the other side, although I did make it to +3, maybe a +4 at one point in my life, but I easily slid back to the other side when I was faced with certain life issues, such as cancer. Since I was 20 years old, I worked out every day, ate right and took really good care of myself. So when I was told I had cancer, my negative core beliefs kicked in and I began berating myself all over again for not being good enough, not having done enough good things, and so on. There I was, right back on the other side of the scale. Being bald definitely didn't help the situation.
I knew what I was doing to myself. Of course, I was going through a grief process at first. I was losing that wonderful healthy body I thought I had until I got this news. Now, I was giving all of the control of that body to a doctor who said I needed chemo treatements for six months and then a bone marrow transplant. But I was now feeling less than. My shame and anger did not subside until I reached about a -3 or -4. I stopped. I stayed in that place for several months, until I had a bone marrow transplant. Just like when I went back to work 10 days after I had my son, I went back to work 10 days after I got home from a month-long stay in the hospital for the transplant. I went through exercises I developed and use in my Master Your Self-Esteem class on a daily basis. It took a while, but, eventually, I could feel myself moving back in the right direction again. Literally.
So..... you can go back and forth on the scale. Know that just because you're happy one day, or one week, or even one month, you're not necessarily on the right side of the scale. A new relationship, marriage, a relocation, promotion or a better job, all can make us feel elated. But that's not what determines where you are on the scale. It's how you are when you're alone with yourself, or in challenging situations. It's how you feel and react in difficult times. Those are the true tests of your level of self-esteem.
During my many years of working with women, I've heard so many stories of hard times. Living with an abusive boyfriend or husband, taking care of a sick parent, having an illness, loss of a loved one, being in a car accident, natural disasters, violent attacks or accidents, military combat, sexual assult, and physical abuse are all challenging situations.
So, where are you on the scale?