On Inferiority
Is it truly possible to turn weakness into strength?
I have a massive inferiority complex. I have understood this for some time. For those of you who don't know, an inferiority complex is a general feeling that oneself is inferior to others in some way, resulting in either a tendency to overcompensate through achievement or surrender in antisocial behaviors. As you might guess, this could be a horrible affliction. The idea of going through life feeling inadequate in comparison to those around you is not a promising one by most standards; I would go out on a limb and say that the fair majority of people would like a healthy, stable sense of their own capabilities and confidence in their worthiness to fill a niche in society.
This is a stability that I can never seem to achieve.
No matter what situation I am in, I see only the best in those around me. This does not necessarily mandate that I hold myself in a negative light, only that I am less positive than the best around me. For instance, if I am superior in every way to a given friend of mine, simply a better human being, except for physical strength, I will look at him and immediately see that strength. This would be an acceptable arrangement were he the only person I knew, for in the final balance of things he would be less of a man than I despite his brute superiority. However, I know more than one person. Many, many more.
For every human virtue or skill, there is someone I know who is better than me. Stronger. Faster. More eloquent. More funny. More musical. More charming. More coordinated. A better speaker. A better actor. A better writer. A better filmmaker. A better guitarist. Though I would say that none of them are better men, that does not matter. I must always compare myself to them in terms of their greatest virtue, and thus I always lose.
This is horrid. So let's take a look again.
The key to living with this sense of selective inferiority is the choice inherent in the complex. It's right there, at the end of the definition: "...is thought to drive afflicted individuals to overcompensate, resulting either in spectacular achievement or extreme antisocial behaviour."
Spectacular achievement or antisocial behavior. The choice.
Achieve or retreat. Fight or surrender. Evolve or stagnate.
The choice.
My solution to this very real series of problems is the same as my approach to most problems: face it head on. It really is a simple thing: if the problem is that someone is better than me at something, then the solution is obviously to become better than them at it. Simple.
Under this rationale I have done many things. I have learned to play the guitar. I have learned to juggle. I have studied history and psychology and any number of other subjects for no objectively apparent reason. I have learned poi. I have learned to play the drums. I run daily. I lift weights. I travel. I seek out the bizarre and the unseen for no reason but to claim uniqueness and originality. I perform in stage shows. I make films. Hell, most of the reason that I wrote my first novel way back in the day was just to prove to my high school that I wasn't the worthless weirdo they thought I was.
It is the proof that matters. The tagline to a very popular independent film starring John Heder says of the title character, "He's out to prove he's got nothing to prove." Such could not be farther from my life. Every day is a constant battle to show those around me that this man is not to be overlooked, not lesser or weaker than they, but is rather a force to be reckoned with. You think you're a good man? I can be better. "Teach me to love?" Cowly asks, "Go teach thyself more wit. I, chief professor am of it. The God of Love, if such a thing there be, may learn to love from me." This is my truth, spoken through the poet's long years: let even a god show me his mettle, and I will beat him at his own game.
Naturally, to hope to beat all at their games is nigh impossible for any son of man. Daily failure is nearly inevitable, and daily fail I do. But I will be damned if I don't try. If perfection cannot be reached, than the pursuit of it will serve to assuage the illness.
Can weakness truly be turned into strength? I say that it can. I say that skill can be built from where there was none and can rock the heavens. More than that, I say that an affliction, a compulsion grown from the seeds of inferiority and insecurity can be turned on itself and breed greatness. All that it requires is the wherewithal to do so.
I am not a perfect man, nor reasonably close, and my grounds to preach it are far from sure. But I do not believe I stand alone when I say that I live in the hope that the weaknesses which bind us today may be the very source of tomorrow's thunder. I bid you stand. Stand alongside your betters and learn from them. There is no power that they have that cannot be ours if we but ready our pens, open our eyes, square our shoulders, and prepare to learn. Every day.
School is in session.
I have a massive inferiority complex. I have understood this for some time. For those of you who don't know, an inferiority complex is a general feeling that oneself is inferior to others in some way, resulting in either a tendency to overcompensate through achievement or surrender in antisocial behaviors. As you might guess, this could be a horrible affliction. The idea of going through life feeling inadequate in comparison to those around you is not a promising one by most standards; I would go out on a limb and say that the fair majority of people would like a healthy, stable sense of their own capabilities and confidence in their worthiness to fill a niche in society.
This is a stability that I can never seem to achieve.
No matter what situation I am in, I see only the best in those around me. This does not necessarily mandate that I hold myself in a negative light, only that I am less positive than the best around me. For instance, if I am superior in every way to a given friend of mine, simply a better human being, except for physical strength, I will look at him and immediately see that strength. This would be an acceptable arrangement were he the only person I knew, for in the final balance of things he would be less of a man than I despite his brute superiority. However, I know more than one person. Many, many more.
For every human virtue or skill, there is someone I know who is better than me. Stronger. Faster. More eloquent. More funny. More musical. More charming. More coordinated. A better speaker. A better actor. A better writer. A better filmmaker. A better guitarist. Though I would say that none of them are better men, that does not matter. I must always compare myself to them in terms of their greatest virtue, and thus I always lose.
This is horrid. So let's take a look again.
The key to living with this sense of selective inferiority is the choice inherent in the complex. It's right there, at the end of the definition: "...is thought to drive afflicted individuals to overcompensate, resulting either in spectacular achievement or extreme antisocial behaviour."
Spectacular achievement or antisocial behavior. The choice.
Achieve or retreat. Fight or surrender. Evolve or stagnate.
The choice.
My solution to this very real series of problems is the same as my approach to most problems: face it head on. It really is a simple thing: if the problem is that someone is better than me at something, then the solution is obviously to become better than them at it. Simple.
Under this rationale I have done many things. I have learned to play the guitar. I have learned to juggle. I have studied history and psychology and any number of other subjects for no objectively apparent reason. I have learned poi. I have learned to play the drums. I run daily. I lift weights. I travel. I seek out the bizarre and the unseen for no reason but to claim uniqueness and originality. I perform in stage shows. I make films. Hell, most of the reason that I wrote my first novel way back in the day was just to prove to my high school that I wasn't the worthless weirdo they thought I was.
It is the proof that matters. The tagline to a very popular independent film starring John Heder says of the title character, "He's out to prove he's got nothing to prove." Such could not be farther from my life. Every day is a constant battle to show those around me that this man is not to be overlooked, not lesser or weaker than they, but is rather a force to be reckoned with. You think you're a good man? I can be better. "Teach me to love?" Cowly asks, "Go teach thyself more wit. I, chief professor am of it. The God of Love, if such a thing there be, may learn to love from me." This is my truth, spoken through the poet's long years: let even a god show me his mettle, and I will beat him at his own game.
Naturally, to hope to beat all at their games is nigh impossible for any son of man. Daily failure is nearly inevitable, and daily fail I do. But I will be damned if I don't try. If perfection cannot be reached, than the pursuit of it will serve to assuage the illness.
Can weakness truly be turned into strength? I say that it can. I say that skill can be built from where there was none and can rock the heavens. More than that, I say that an affliction, a compulsion grown from the seeds of inferiority and insecurity can be turned on itself and breed greatness. All that it requires is the wherewithal to do so.
I am not a perfect man, nor reasonably close, and my grounds to preach it are far from sure. But I do not believe I stand alone when I say that I live in the hope that the weaknesses which bind us today may be the very source of tomorrow's thunder. I bid you stand. Stand alongside your betters and learn from them. There is no power that they have that cannot be ours if we but ready our pens, open our eyes, square our shoulders, and prepare to learn. Every day.
School is in session.
posted by Will Jones at 9:16 PM
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