Backsliding....

One week, I feel like I can take on the world, like there is NOTHING on earth that I can't accomplish. One week, I feel like I can't be trusted to simply keep myself and my child passably hygienic and in one piece without supervision. What the devil is the difference between these two weeks?

My theory is that it has to do with the people I am surrounded by. That if I am surrounded by people who expect my best, I feel like I can give my best. If I'm surrounded by people who see me as inadequate, or convey that they see me as inadequate, I feel inadequate. That how I see myself is, in large part, affected by how I see myself mirrored back in the eyes of the people around me.

I was a 21-year-old college graduate in my first job doing secretarial work in 1987, doing mailings to a group of educators. Not challenging work -- in fact in retrospect, it was darned dull, except that the material itself and the environment was so fascinating. The work, though? Dry as toast.

Last week, I met up with those educators again, and repeatedly had to explain who I was and why I was there. And during that day, I felt something slowly seep out of me. "Hi, back in about 1988, I used to send you packages of educational materials." I made jokes about it. "It was my DNA on the back of those stamps!" I joked about how long ago it was. "Back at the dawn of time? I used to mail you stuff." The best responses were simply the ones that said "Oh, yes, I remember you!" and then let it pass. The worst were the ones who were effusive about what a good job I did and how much they appreciated it. I couldn't figure out why those bothered me so much. Ultimately, I've concluded that it's mostly because I really didn't think what I did there was particularly important, and certainly didn't warrant excessive, what seemed to be labored, protracted appreciation. It was a lifetime ago, and I put boxes in the mail because I had no discernable professional skills. 20 years later, I've worked in a completely different field long enough to have a reasonable reputation and expertise in something that has no meaning to this group of people.

I tried to be gracious and laugh it off, and succeeded until the conference director, as I was thanking her and making my exit, told me to "stay in touch, but you know - not every day."

I arrived home, and my husband told me that our son hadn't even noticed that I was gone. The next morning when my darling son awoke, he told me that he didn't want me -- he wanted his Daddy.

Wow: talk about feeling like you don't have any street value!

I'm looking now for ways to protect myself from this feeling in the future -- this feeling of having no value to others in my world. What are the things that I need to do, surround myself with, and focus on in order to keep my awareness of my value, even when I'm around people who clearly can't see it?

Right now, I'm thinking of books that I can read, lectures I can keep on my iPod, touchstones that I can keep with me that keep me centered when the world around me is eroding my sense of self.

I'm open to suggestions.