My morning routine has been shattered. Heck, I might even get to work on time now.
My days commonly began with half an hour's early morning argument with myself about whether I could be bothered getting out of bed for a bike ride, walk or aqua jog before breakfast.
The arguments against such activities ranged from "it's too wet/windy/ frosty" to "I'll do it later in the day".
I never said "I am too lazy." That might have damaged my feelings of self worth.
Sometimes, to get over any lurking suspicion I was not quite as energetic as one might expect a person to be with my wonderfully enthusiastic outlook on exercise, I would run up and down my stairs 10 times before making my way to the shower.
Once out of the shower, peering at myself in the bathroom mirror (in which thankfully only my head appeared through the steaminess) I could get on with the essential task of boosting my self esteem.
My feelings about my general wellbeing were greatly enhanced by the absence of contact lenses which meant I looked, well, not to put too fine a point on it, gorgeous.
Describing myself as a goddess emerging from the mist would not have been hyperbole.
When you can hardly see past the end of your increasingly witch-like nose, pimples, freckles, wrinkles and black coarse hairs sprouting from everywhere except the top of your head are nonexistent. I like to call it the miracle of myopia, but I digress from the important task of telling you about my self-affirmations.
There are too many to include here, but the following is a representative selection.
"I am healthy, happy and beautiful. Wealth is pouring into my life. I am always calm and relaxed. I am in control. Everything is getting better every day. I am living in the house of my dreams. I deserve to be happy and successful. Everything about me is lovable . . ."
I forget now how many I used to say, but each one was repeated at least 10 times, leaving me little time to get dressed, let alone eat breakfast.
By the time I reached work, I felt and looked awful.
None of my affirmations was about my role as a mother. I am not sure why. Perhaps it is that it is so hard to know when you are doing the right thing.
I wonder what Maria del Carmen Bousada's self esteem was like. She was the Spanish woman who supposedly lied to a Californian fertility clinic about her age and had hormone therapy to kick-start her post-menopausal uterus ready for implantation with a younger woman's eggs and donated sperm. She became the mother of twin sons at 66, dying recently at the age of 69, apparently from stomach cancer.
Before embarking on motherhood she had spent her life caring for her mother who died at 101. She expected to live to a similar ripe old age and did not consider age as an impediment to motherhood. Such behaviour seemed more sadly selfish than selfless.
Younger parents also die, as I know only too well, but it doesn't take too much intelligence to realise the risks of dying increase as you get older.
Being able to choose something does not always make it right.
Did her freshly showered self stand daily before her mirror saying "I am young. I deserve to be mothering teenagers in my 80s. I know my sons will adore me no matter how old and cranky I am. I will beat this illness."
Perhaps it would have helped Ms Bousada to learn, as I have, that recent research published in Psychological Medicine has shown positive self-statements aren't much good for people with low self-esteem, particularly if the statements are what the researchers called outlandish or unreasonably positive such as "I accept myself completely".
To protect myself from the harm I might have been causing myself, I have decided to simplify my messages and lower their outlandishness.
Accuracy and brevity feature in my new routine.
Now I will say: "I am too lazy for exercise. I deserve to be loved by my cat. I have the power to turn off the light (if I have paid the electricity bill). Only I think I look my best before I insert my contact lenses."
If I find myself straying into such statements as "A thickening girth is gorgeous. Varicose veins are very sexy. A messy house means I have a tidy mind. I am invincible. I am a genius." I will hiss "narcissist" at myself and gently return to earth.
My self esteem might be in tatters, but I like to think I will be contributing to a saner world. It is possible I could be deluded.
- Elspeth McLean is a Dunedin writer.
