Dr. Aziz Gazipura PsyD - On My Own Side: Transform Self-Criticism and Doubt Into Permanent Self-Worth and Confidence

W hen was the first time you turned on yourself? Do you remember? My guess is that it wasnt recently, but rather a long, long time ago. Im not talking about the first time someone else turned on you or was cruel to you, but rather, the time you were first cruel to yourself.

When I was eight years old, I went to spend a few summer days at an all sports camp. We cycled through various sports, including soccer, which was my favorite.

Except I didnt enjoy this soccer or this camp at all because most of the two days were filled with a group of boys hounding me because of my name. While I dont remember all the details of what they said, I know Aziz the disease was a favorite. One would say, Aziz the disease, as others stood by cackling. Soon, one would just say my name, and they would all laugh. The sound of my name was the punch line.

I remember the pain, hurt, and helplessness I felt. I remember walking away from the soccer field, tears burning my eyes as I heard their laughter rolling across the open field. I hated them. But I didnt hate myself. Not yet.

Three years later, when I was eleven years old and starting my first day at a new middle school where everyone knew each other but me, I felt nervous. I was afraid I wouldnt fit in and that the other kids wouldnt like me.

During recess, when all the boys climbed to the top of the monkey bars to lounge and talk, I did not. Id never climbed up something like that and was not able to. Or maybe I could if I kept at it, but I didnt want to try too many times lest I draw more attention to myself. Instead, I stood in the sand below, leaning against a cold metal post, feeling horrible inside. Different. Weird. Less-than.

But I didnt hate myself. I mainly felt scaredscared they would do this every recess and that I would be different, and then the teasing would start. I was scared that I wouldnt fit in and that I wouldnt have any friends in this new school, this new city.

Im sure you can recall hundreds of moments like these from different times in your life, moments where you felt scared, anxious, or inferior. Moments where you hoped people would like you, that things would go well, that youd be good enough.

But these moments are not the ones Im talking about. Im asking about the moment you stopped simply being in yourself while interacting with the world out there. The moment when you started to look inward at yourself and harshly judged what you found there.

For me, it was when I started to get acne. I found it repulsive. I felt intense surges of anxiety bordering on panic when I looked at myself in the mirror. I was already barely hanging on by a thread. Somehow, people hadnt caught on to the fact that my name was different than theirs, that my skin was darker than theirs, or that my dad was a different religion than theirs. Somehow, I was fitting in. Maybe it was because I was athletic and could run and jump and play basketball and four square. Maybe it was because I instantly changed my musical tastes to mimic those of the kids around me. Whatever it was, I was fitting in. And now this.

Each new pimple was bringing me one step closer to the edge of ruin. You may smile at how a dramatic twelve-year-old mind can work, but dont we all do this now, still? Wont the world end if you dont get that next sale or make a good impression on your boss boss at the next big meeting? Wont you just die if that person doesnt call you back after you spent the night together? Isnt your world regularly on the edge of death and ruin?

Thats when I started feeling total revulsion toward myself. I hated looking in the mirror. I imagined everyone was thinking less of megirls in my class, other boys, my cousins, family, and even strangers. Everyone would find me as gross as I found myself.

The anger, revulsion, and hatred intensified as boys in my class started making connections with girls. They were somehow meeting up, going on dates, or spending time together at school dances. None of this was happening to me, and I knew why. It was because I was gross, repulsive, and bad.

Thats when it all began, The Great Betrayal. I stopped wanting to be me and started wanting to be somebody else. I stopped loving me for who I was. How could I? How could I love someone who looked like that? Whose family had accents like that? Whose skin and eyes looked like that?

I wonder, my dear friend, when you first turned on yourself. When did you become your own enemy? When did you decide that who you are wasnt worthy, good, loved, or lovable? Can you pinpoint some of the moments of that early transition?

It may have occurred much younger for you. Ive had clients whove told me about chastising themselves out loud as early as five or six years old. One man I worked with started telling himself he was bad and awful dozens of times per day when he was in first grade. What on earth was a six-year-old doing that was so unforgivable, so bad, and awful? He couldnt even recall. All he remembered was the feeling of complete badness he felt. I felt like I had a rotten core, like a bad apple youd throw away once you found out what was inside it.

Maybe the betrayal happened in one distinct moment, or maybe it was a gradual shift that occurred over months. Maybe it was after the third time your family moved when you were a kid, and you had to go to yet another new school. Maybe it was when your mom and dad divorced, and you felt the support you once relied on shatter beneath you.