Labels are a confusing indication of the best and the worst things about you. Ideally, labels are set out to help us identify things - foods, products, segments, etc. In a social context, however, labels can damage someone's reputation. I talk about this a lot with my teenagers. We often label people (or get labeled) and forget to look past anything. I don't think that women are the only ones subject to detrimental labels, but over the years, words like "slut" and "bitch" have become trendy despite being labels that are not only misused, but also degrading in every way. I'm no angel. I use them freely as well.
Labels can also be seemingly positive, too. We can project people as inherently good, simply by classifying them as such. Most of the time, negative labels come attached to a single set of actions, but positive labels take a lifetime to build up to. That's only fair, right?
But are labels with a positive connotation detrimental as well? I've been struggling with this lately. Oftentimes with close relationships, I'll find myself blurting out these tiny "confessions" to ensure that I'm not masking who I truly am. It can be anything from admitting I don't know how to do something to eating a crappy meal. That way I can keep myself from being wrongfully labeled as "healthy" while I hide at home and cram popcorn and skittles down on a Friday night. There is one label that gets tossed my way on a somewhat consistent basis that makes me feel that twinge of guilt just a little bit more than any other. It's that notion of being misunderstood for something better than what I really am. It's that "if you only knew" mentality.
That label is "tough."
Don't get me wrong; I do consider myself tough in some forms of the word. As an athlete, I am tough. I get back up, pursue success at all physical costs, and I don't think I'd ever be considered a quitter. I'm tough on myself. I set high expectations and go after them fervently. The kind of tough that makes me squirm, however, is the tough that means "you make it through."
In other words, you-handle-challenges-well-tough. This is where I go, "if you only knew." I'm not really sure how tough I am in that sense. What's the baseline? What's the norm? How long does it take to get over something? Through something? What type of reactions and outlets are acceptable? What's tough and what's really just stubborn? I imagine when people tell me that I'm tough that they imagine me shrugging off the hard stuff, making promises to better myself, and keeping them.
That would be nice. But that's not what happens.
I falter. I set boundaries and break them. I smile and laugh, but it's possible that I'm faking it. Eventually...I do get through it. But doesn't everyone? Does that really warrant the label of "tough?"
I caught myself becoming so inter-meshed with the idea of being wrongfully categorized - by "tough," but also by other labels (positive and negative) - that I finally had some moments of self-realization. Maybe the labels are just these words left for interpretation for the carrier of them, not the person who slings them at someone else. Maybe they're more of an evolution, rather than an absolute concept. Ya. This seems more reasonable.
My tough is a similar idea to what I blogged about months ago - my own skinny. It's not about what it means to other people. It's about what it means to me. I'm not always the type of tough I want to be. That doesn't lessen the label or characteristic though. It just makes me re-define it.
Going through a third knee surgery has tested my self-perception of myself in a lot of ways, but most definitely in my toughness. When I have days that I don't do what I'm supposed to do, or when I complain, or when I feel sorry for myself, fall behind, I knock off points in the invisible scoring system. It's like breaking up with someone and promising not to contact them and then shamefully doing so only to delineate "weakness points" afterward. Or promising that you'll never eat a cookie again. That's not toughness. That's criminal.
Labels can also be seemingly positive, too. We can project people as inherently good, simply by classifying them as such. Most of the time, negative labels come attached to a single set of actions, but positive labels take a lifetime to build up to. That's only fair, right?
But are labels with a positive connotation detrimental as well? I've been struggling with this lately. Oftentimes with close relationships, I'll find myself blurting out these tiny "confessions" to ensure that I'm not masking who I truly am. It can be anything from admitting I don't know how to do something to eating a crappy meal. That way I can keep myself from being wrongfully labeled as "healthy" while I hide at home and cram popcorn and skittles down on a Friday night. There is one label that gets tossed my way on a somewhat consistent basis that makes me feel that twinge of guilt just a little bit more than any other. It's that notion of being misunderstood for something better than what I really am. It's that "if you only knew" mentality.
That label is "tough."
Don't get me wrong; I do consider myself tough in some forms of the word. As an athlete, I am tough. I get back up, pursue success at all physical costs, and I don't think I'd ever be considered a quitter. I'm tough on myself. I set high expectations and go after them fervently. The kind of tough that makes me squirm, however, is the tough that means "you make it through."
In other words, you-handle-challenges-well-tough. This is where I go, "if you only knew." I'm not really sure how tough I am in that sense. What's the baseline? What's the norm? How long does it take to get over something? Through something? What type of reactions and outlets are acceptable? What's tough and what's really just stubborn? I imagine when people tell me that I'm tough that they imagine me shrugging off the hard stuff, making promises to better myself, and keeping them.
That would be nice. But that's not what happens.
I falter. I set boundaries and break them. I smile and laugh, but it's possible that I'm faking it. Eventually...I do get through it. But doesn't everyone? Does that really warrant the label of "tough?"
I caught myself becoming so inter-meshed with the idea of being wrongfully categorized - by "tough," but also by other labels (positive and negative) - that I finally had some moments of self-realization. Maybe the labels are just these words left for interpretation for the carrier of them, not the person who slings them at someone else. Maybe they're more of an evolution, rather than an absolute concept. Ya. This seems more reasonable.
My tough is a similar idea to what I blogged about months ago - my own skinny. It's not about what it means to other people. It's about what it means to me. I'm not always the type of tough I want to be. That doesn't lessen the label or characteristic though. It just makes me re-define it.
Going through a third knee surgery has tested my self-perception of myself in a lot of ways, but most definitely in my toughness. When I have days that I don't do what I'm supposed to do, or when I complain, or when I feel sorry for myself, fall behind, I knock off points in the invisible scoring system. It's like breaking up with someone and promising not to contact them and then shamefully doing so only to delineate "weakness points" afterward. Or promising that you'll never eat a cookie again. That's not toughness. That's criminal.
So screw it. Toughness doesn't exist because we never falter or struggle. It exists because we do and then get a little bit better. Or a lot better. Whatever. I'm not tough because I've had three knee surgeries - the only label that can absolutely come with that is "has had three knee surgeries." Not cursed or unlucky or clumsy or even athletic (though that's my favorite to rely on). These events can't define these labels - whatever they are. They can, however, delegate some self-recognition.
I ran my first mile in about 8 months on Friday. As Barney Stinson would say, "self high-five." Running that doesn't make me tough or fast or slow or athletic. It just makes me proud of myself. It's cool to feel good. It feels good to feel good! I've been so caught up in what these moments and reactions cast me as in the world of scary labels that I've forgotten to just appreciate the authenticity of moments - good and bad. I could make a big, declarative statement like, "I'll never let labels get to me again!"
But that's not true. Remember? Setting boundaries and breaking them? It happens. That's part of owning "tough" as my own, rather than as an ambiguous label to live up to.
My high school English teacher, who is a hero of mine, came to see me last week. As I introduced him to a couple important people in my life, one of them asked him what I was like on the basketball court in high school. I braced myself for it. I know how people typically describe me from those days. Tough. Aggressive. Hustler.
"She's Macie," he said.
We shared a smile. I didn't have to worry about living up to a display of labels that I did or did not agree with or bear any that hurt my own self-perception. He left it open to interpretation without lessening my own appreciation for his description. I have no idea what makes people tough. I have those people in my life - they support me, are honest, and have certainly faced their own battles. They also get scared and break down and ask for help though. They're tough because of the way they carry themselves, not because of their actions in specific moments or hardships (though that adds to it).
I felt awesome after running a mile! It meant something to me. I don't want to add it to the list of reasons to carry on a specific label or shed a different one though. I just want to appreciate it. For me. I'm tougher than I was during my first and second knee surgery, but who can say what that means in terms of the label in and of itself? Not me, that's for sure.
Labels are tricky. "Slut" and "bitch" and these ugly words that cast shadows over people and highlight snapshots of opinions are dehumanizing. Similarly, labels that inflict a constant anxiety of being able to live up to them are dangerous, too. You're tough. And smart. And good. However that looks for you, not for me.
Labels are for foods and products and segments.
I'm not tough as nails. I'm just...tough as me.
I ran my first mile in about 8 months on Friday. As Barney Stinson would say, "self high-five." Running that doesn't make me tough or fast or slow or athletic. It just makes me proud of myself. It's cool to feel good. It feels good to feel good! I've been so caught up in what these moments and reactions cast me as in the world of scary labels that I've forgotten to just appreciate the authenticity of moments - good and bad. I could make a big, declarative statement like, "I'll never let labels get to me again!"
But that's not true. Remember? Setting boundaries and breaking them? It happens. That's part of owning "tough" as my own, rather than as an ambiguous label to live up to.
My high school English teacher, who is a hero of mine, came to see me last week. As I introduced him to a couple important people in my life, one of them asked him what I was like on the basketball court in high school. I braced myself for it. I know how people typically describe me from those days. Tough. Aggressive. Hustler.
"She's Macie," he said.
We shared a smile. I didn't have to worry about living up to a display of labels that I did or did not agree with or bear any that hurt my own self-perception. He left it open to interpretation without lessening my own appreciation for his description. I have no idea what makes people tough. I have those people in my life - they support me, are honest, and have certainly faced their own battles. They also get scared and break down and ask for help though. They're tough because of the way they carry themselves, not because of their actions in specific moments or hardships (though that adds to it).
I felt awesome after running a mile! It meant something to me. I don't want to add it to the list of reasons to carry on a specific label or shed a different one though. I just want to appreciate it. For me. I'm tougher than I was during my first and second knee surgery, but who can say what that means in terms of the label in and of itself? Not me, that's for sure.
Labels are tricky. "Slut" and "bitch" and these ugly words that cast shadows over people and highlight snapshots of opinions are dehumanizing. Similarly, labels that inflict a constant anxiety of being able to live up to them are dangerous, too. You're tough. And smart. And good. However that looks for you, not for me.
Labels are for foods and products and segments.
I'm not tough as nails. I'm just...tough as me.
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