On Self-Worth

“You look like Mrs. Wilson,” he said laughing, referencing one of our old teachers with long, gray hair.

I touched my hair and laughed, too. He was always enough of an asshole to make me self conscious, but not enough of an asshole for me to call him out because then I’d be the girl that couldn’t take a joke.

The thing about the way some of us navigate young adulthood, is that we tend to find our self-worth through the words and thoughts of others. The truth is, most of us don’t have any idea who the fuck we even are, so Kevin from high school that you’ve had a crush on since 7th grade MUST be right when he tells you your new hair color is funny. Even though you just looked in the mirror an hour ago and thought you were the baddest bitch. See how that works?

It takes years to unlearn everything we’ve ever been taught and build yourself back up brick by brick, and I don’t know if we ever finish. I would be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes lay awake at night and think about what Becky said to Megan about me behind my back. 

We were tailgating before a concert that afternoon, when Kevin told me I looked like an aging gray-haired woman. He also made fun of my drink choice (Malibu and pineapple Fanta—I still stand by this), my tan lines, my lipstick choice, how much I love Harry Potter and probably a number of other things I’ve long since forgotten. Nothing too substantial, but coming from someone whose opinion of you matters (in the moment)...each jab slowly chipped away at my self esteem. And these are the things I remember, instead of how iconic Snoop & Wiz had been.

I wish I had spoken up any one of those times.

“I actually like my silver hair, thanks!”

“Don’t yuck someone else’s yum!” (Only OGs will remember)

Or even simply… “Hey, that hurt my feelings.”

But instead I laughed along and let the guy I liked pick apart the things I loved. The worst part about it is that I still went home with him that night, spent the entire next day cuddled up watching Stranger Things, and had the audacity to believe he would text me the next day (or ever again).

Ahhh sweet little naive Kayla.

See when you put your self-worth into the hands of other people, you’re left with broken snapshots of yourself. He put me down so many times that I HAD TO go home with him, to prove to myself that nothing he said ~really~ mattered because deep down he liked me in the end!

I had to prove to myself that I was likable.

For a while I stopped talking about Harry Potter so much, I was afraid to dye my hair anything other than a variation of brown or blonde, and my lipstick choices were a little less bold. It’s almost impossible that someone who meant so little can have such a large impact on your day-to-day life. And yet.

I haven’t really heard from Kevin much since then, and truthfully, he probably doesn’t even remember. Which is worse—to be made fun of or to not be remembered?

It’s possible that all those jabs were his immature school-boy-on-the-playground way of telling me he did like me. It’s possible that he was so insecure with himself that he was just deflecting the attention to someone else. It’s possible that he thought the things he was saying were cute jokes and not hurtful. It’s possible. It’s possible that he did find those things cute, and I was so insecure I assumed he was being a dick.

But none of it matters. In the end, I had to remember how vibrant I was on my own. That I LOVE my hair when it’s purple or blue or pink. That I’m a self-proclaimed nerd and proud of it simply because it makes my heart happy. And fuck you if you think it’s weird! In the end none of it matters, because I still ended up feeling like an idiot. So why waste brainpower thinking about what that guy thinks, and why not tell him when it hurts?

Truthfully, there’s still no bad blood between Kevin and me because I know he never had malicious intent. I think he’s funny and loyal and kind to those who matter most to him. I just wasn’t one of those people.

That’s not the point of this.

The point is, when you’re insecure and unsure of who you are, it’s so easy to find the negative thoughts of others because you’re so worried about being the kind of person that everyone wants to be, and God forbid you aren’t that image of perfection the second you become self-aware and start that lifelong journey of “finding yourself” (Spoiler Alert! You won’t ever be). It’s exhausting and terrifying, but in the wise words of Laura Jane Williams, “none of us is fucking up like we think we are”, so cut yourself a break, Kiddo! Give yourself time to learn that your flaws are what makes you human and that’s okay.

You are beautiful in all your weird idiosyncrasies and who cares what Kevin from high school thinks about it. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, and the sooner you learn that, the better.