24 - this monster known as validation
(meta image credit: Jason Nelson on Pexels )
I've been sitting and reflecting on why I'm addicted to validation and approval lately.
About two weeks or so ago (27-28 June to be exact), I went to this two-day emotional wellness/a so-called"ESQ" program ran by Muslim women for Muslim women (I know I said I was trans, but bear with me for a minute). I honestly came in expecting nothing - like it was going to be a lot of hogwash about being "emotionally attuned with oneself" and all of that. Hogwash about being attuned to the spiritual, about getting closer to God and that will somehow fix all of my problems. I've grown up attending countless motivational shit like this and came out the same person anyway - jaded, exhausted, somewhat...violated? Violated that I thought maybe that would give me a starting point, but ended up with useless garbage. Considering this is a personal post I'm not really interested in debating on the validity of emotional and spiritual intelligence; that's a post for another time, but my jadedness DID come from how talks and programs that promote the "emotional-spiritual intelligence" (a term that I found is far more common in Malaysia and Indonesia than anywhere else in the world) are marketed with the promise of making you a "productive member of society", which just reads as "we want you to be more valuable in the capitalism machine".
However, I came out of this particular program feeling seen, somewhat healed with a good roadmap of where my healing should go, and have cried more than I've probably ever cried in my life as far as I know.
One of the things the coach/speaker guided me to reflect on that particularly struck me is how I wanted validation, craved it deeply even — the way I want to be seen, to be heard, for my efforts to be acknowledged and somewhat celebrated. She had me reflect on how it was deeper than just the need to be validated online, to be seen as the one with the "correct" anything. That this silly "I want people to see me" came from an unfulfilled need that had been constantly denied that I'd hinge on every little gesture of approval even if it was insincere or even insulting. I don't know how she did it - though I suppose this came from her background in psychology to begin with, which was why I felt seen to begin with. It wasn't about being productive, or being useful in society. It was just about me and my needs.
Photo by Ty Nguyễn
I was always the overachiever growing up. It was either I give 100 or absolutely none at all - to be just average is unacceptable, for both me and my loved ones - if I was just "average" I wouldn't be rewarded, but rather punished for it, and if it wasn't coming from my parents, I'd most definitely hear something scathing from my teachers and friends. "You have so much potential and you could do so much more if only you applied yourself more" was the sort of thing I keep hearing. It was a nice way of saying "are you fucking stupid". Some rather mean "friends" were just more overt about that (yknow, because we were just growing children) - the "you're so stupid", "you're a weirdo, you can't hang with us" etc. Being bullied physically by my older brother as a kid wasn't helping any either.
I ended up being a very angry child back then. It wasn't uncommon for me to be sent to the teacher's office because I was beating up other kids or starting fights in retaliation to what they said to me or my "weirdo" friends. It was easier to bite back at other kids who were horrible to me than it was to lash out at the mean teachers or my angry parents - to "punish" them back for their perceived punishment, as it were. This lashing out didn't carry forward as a teenager, however - by that time I think I was already beaten so badly by my brother that I've learned to hide how I really feel, no matter how angry or unheard I felt.
Photo by İlayda Mutlu
It was always "you could be so much more". "This isn't enough". "You could surely do better than that". I lost count how many times I cried as a teenager, but I definitely remembered when a school counselor said my tears was a sign of me "giving up" when I was just frustrated about failing my grades, in front of the entire form. It didn't help that I was being ostracized by my peers AND bullying teachers because I dared befriend someone who was being ostracized - a girl who was unfairly bullied by the entire form for something that none of us were old enough to even be thinking about. It got to the point that my mother was told by the school principal, a mere few months before our national test, that I should move to a less prestigious school because my trial results was an embarrassment to the school. My mother responded by sending me to additional classes for the subjects I was horrible at (it was Maths. It was always fucking Maths). I left the school for a "less prestigious" one, with one of the best results in that school. I wasn't going to stay at a school where nearly everyone was a piece of shit.
Photo by Ayberk Mirza
There were a lot of instances like these, where being average or even failing was punished and my efforts were never recognized or seen, that to list them all would make this way too long to read. The point was that it shaped me to hold this kind of pain for so long, that I've taught myself that I don't deserve to celebrate my triumphs and that I should hide my joy, lest I invite the comments of "okay, but surely you could do more than this". I haven't remembered a single time when I heard a proper "great job", one that didn't come with any strings attached, for so long that now when the friends and my own sister actually say that to me, genuinely, I couldn't accept it. It came with a "oh I think I could do better than this". Sometimes they would just say "why? This is already great enough for me." Or, more deeply, "you really don't give yourself enough credit, Red".
Photo by Rahib Yaqubov
So those two days when not just the coach, but EVERYONE in that 40-person program, saw me for this person I was - the overworked and high strung one who just wants someone to tell them he was enough - and assured me that I was already enough as I was, that I should be happy for me, and me alone - was so much. I cried so much. They taught me that to let go of all this hurt and to isn't giving up or admitting defeat, that to forgive isn't for the person who hurt you, but for yourself. For your own peace. It's to help you move on, and realize that all of this is the story of your past, but the future is still out there, with more future friends and loved ones that see me for who I am and not what I could become, for the me that realizes I'm already a massive delight on my own, that despite everything I HAVE grown. I HAVE achieved so many great things. That my value is to be determined by me and me alone.
Photo by Alex Dos Santos
It's why making art without sharing them constantly on social media have been so much more valuable. It's why I've been actively resisting the need to speak about anything AND everything on my social media - I realize even though I do have the desire to speak up for what I believe is right, a part of me loves the attention I get, and how anxious I get in thinking people would hate me for what I said online. in a platform where you could literally just block people for saying they hate the type of cheese you love so much. Realizing that made me reflect heavily on what I was doing with my social presence, and I realize I'm going at this the wrong way - it shouldn't be about validation, but rather if I believe in something, I should be speaking from my heart. From the me that feels so strongly about the causes and principles that guided me.
And I've been sitting with that for a while. Sitting with this monster called validation that curls on my lap, like a cat. Let's make it a black cat because I love black cats. I don't hate it. It was once the kind of thing that runs away from me the more I chase after it. Claws and bites at me whenever I try to pick it up and cuddle it. But learning to be okay with not having it all the time is a validation in itself - the validation that I'm enough, and that I've done enough. And it comes to me, to curl up in my lap and purr contentedly.
Maybe all this time, I needed to hear that from myself, most of all.
You are already good enough.
Photo by zhang kaiyv
I hope you enjoyed the black cats.