My Report Card

 

Part 3 of 30

My Fragile Self-Esteem

One of the counselors I've had over the years is someone I'd definitely recommend. I mean I would recommend him if he would only clear away about six years of unpaid bills, which frankly have slowed my recovery from fragile self-esteem.

It was under his therapy that I learned to use affirmations and his theories on me seeing my life as a thing of hope and beauty, no matter how hopeless I obviously feel and how awful things are. He taught me one very potent mantra: “I’m gonna be dead someday, what can I accomplish today?” Unfortunately, I haven’t accomplished a lot, but I do have a grave plot on hold, despite the cemetery board’s continual threats that if I don’t put money down they can’t guarantee it’ll be there when I need it.

Just today I was working on one of my mantras, looking deeply into the mirror and my own bloodshot eyes and affirming myself, “Get used to me world, I’m here, deal with it, loser.” If I say that a couple hundred times I'm able to go out in public and function for several minutes without any self-esteem attacks. Giving me time to grab a few groceries and pay for them if the line has less than three people. On some of their busier days I've had to drop things and run, or simply steal things.

My ability to take baby steps (and more) are reflected in my early report cards. My deportment was judged Fair (which I think means really good), and I need good deportment for outings, for my good attitude and general friendliness. Also it has to do with the appropriateness of my attire, and I've found anything's better than nudity.

It’s not perfect system, though, since I don't change clothes very often. And I believe if I can sit at home and smell myself, others in public probably can too. But until I get explicit complaints -- and there’s usually someone else near enough, it could be them -- I’m just going to keep on going as I have. I don’t like wasting money on soap. I think that if you show up at the cash register with a bunch of soap, to the checkout lady that’s the same as a signed confession that you're the one that stinks.

Just to review my other marks. I got better at spelling, thanks to the computer checking everything. Arithmetic isn’t needed thanks to calculators, and anything under 10 I can use my fingers. I’ll just put out a little note to any of my teachers who may have survived this long and are reading this. Thanks to all of you, for nothing. I’ve got fragile self-esteem and I’m pinning the blame on you! You did this to me! I’m coming after you!