In Jamie Lee Curtis’ book I’m Gonna Like Me: Letting Off a Little Self-Esteem, a boy and a girl celebrate liking themselves no matter the circumstances. Their egos remain intact even when they make mistakes, sending the message to the reader that the burden of self-esteem lies entirely on the lap of the beholder.
Years ago, I made the casual comment to my husband that taking karate lessons would be fun after watching my sons move through the ranks. As the saying goes, be careful of what you wish for. Just when I thought he suffered from selective hearing, he didn’t. That Christmas I received a gift certificate for lessons and soon found myself clad in a crisp white gi, looking more like a fearful, wide-eyed nurse ministering to the war wounded than someone who was geared for hand-to-hand combat.
As an avid exerciser and fitness instructor for many years, at first, I relished the physical challenges as well as the mental benefits of learning techniques. But with each belt level, it became apparent that I had veered away from the yellow “belt” road and landed squarely in Oz where nothing made sense. I now know why Dorothy so desperately wanted to click those ruby reds and go home. I found myself participating in a sport that often found me flat on my back in positions that negated every ounce of my Southern ladylike upbringing. “Slapping out” helped soften the landing, although my gut instinct whispered to slap the offender. When tasked with situational applications (using those learned maneuvers on perceived bad guys) I broke out in a cold sweat, suffered heart palpitations and looked in desperation for the nearest rock under which to crawl. There were many times I left that dojo with not only an aching body, but a badly bruised ego.
I can’t help but compare martial arts to motherhood. Both start out with the basics: Martial arts with its stances and strikes, and motherhood armed with pediatricians and baby-whisperer parenting manuals. The complexity of karate increases with time, as does motherhood as we cycle through the seasons of caring for our children. When we wander into the upper belt/teenage and young adult years we often find ourselves in uncharted territory with only our wits to guide us. The bad guys become real. We draw on everything we have ever learned, but still find our dignity battered by the bully.
Two of the impediments to rising to the seemingly unsurmountable challenges of motherhood (and martial arts) are insecurity and pride. As a mother, I do not want to be perceived as someone who doesn’t know what she is doing. When my kids are doing life by the numbers, my dignity remains intact. They are extensions of my capable self. But when Humpty Dumpty falls off the wall and I can’t put him together again, my pride also takes a tumble. Sometimes pride does not “goeth before a fall,” but because of it.
The movie Bad Moms features three mothers, Amy, Carla and Kiki, who struggle to measure up to the volunteer demands of their kids’ school. It is both laugh out loud funny and soberingly serious at the same time. The familiar conundrum of seeking volunteer of the year status or settling for slacker resonated with me. In all honesty, being recognized as a “good mom” may have had as much bearing on my commitments than my contributions to my children’s schools. Sure, I wanted to do my part, but doing so also fed my self-esteem.
Mothers can be their own worst enemies. Our egos inflate and deflate with the successes and failures of our children. We suffer from self-abuse caused by intimidation and fear that we will be labeled bad moms. As the character Amy laments, “At least once a day, I feel like the worst mom in the world, and cry in my car.”
Here’s the problem with pride. In the spiritual realm, dignity is tied to the biblical concept of glory. Not glorifying self, but God. When we stroke the false idols of ego and question our worth, our connection to and reflection of God are impeded. The simple fact that we are created in His image guarantees dignity as a birthright. In Philippians 2:6-8, the apostle Paul declares that we preserve our dignity when we empty ourselves to serve others with kindness. We give all the glory to God with our words and deeds, and do not seek to shine the spotlight on ourselves.
Proverbs 31:25 proclaims that virtuous women are clothed in strength and dignity, but somedays all we can do is to muster mantels of weakness and shame. We must remember that we will never rise higher than the image we have of ourselves. When our reflections mirror those that God created our dignities are preserved. Then we can walk into the dojo or any season of motherhood clothed in self-respect with our heads held high knowing that we are doing the best we can with what we have been given.
Michelle Page is a married mother of three adult children and one recently gained daughter-in-law. A retired kindergarten teacher, she enjoys crafting, volunteering and cooking. Faith is instrumental in managing the curveballs of life, and she writes of her experiences on her blogsite www.gracefromgrit.org.
