I wonder why I always give more weight to the opinions of other people than I do to my own? I'm trying to learn to listen to my gut over the voices of dissent, but it's harder than it seems.
If someone has a title, a degree, or some authority conferred upon him by a respected institution, I'll always assume his opinion is more valid than my own.
And, as much as I hate to admit it, I often will doubt my own inner voice if anyone, regardless of credentials, tells me I'm incorrect. I've often granted authority and wisdom to people who claimed to have it...simply because they claimed to have it. No more reason than that.
I think that's one of the reasons I don't have the "comment" feature enabled on this blog. If anyone questioned or criticized something I posted here, no matter how random or illogical or downright stupid the comment, I would automatically begin to question what I had written. I'd second guess my own feelings and opinions. Endlessly.
I'm very susceptible to someone, anyone, telling me I need to change...that I'm wrong...that my perceptions or opinions are incorrect.
I'll doubt what I've seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears if someone is persuasive and convincing in their argument to the contrary.
This is something that truly annoys and upsets me about myself, but it's a flaw I have yet to overcome.
I still remember an incident that happened to me in college that illustrates this weakness of mine perfectly.
I was in an English Lit class, and we were doing a study of William Blake's poem "The Tyger". At the end of the study, we were supposed to write a comparison and contrast paper comparing "The Tyger" to another Blake poem of our choice.
I had thoroughly enjoyed "The Tyger". I felt I had a good grasp of the poem and the meaning behind it. I was actually looking forward to writing the paper...I knew I could do a good job.
I remember the night I wrote my essay. I could tell, just tell, it was a really good paper, you know? The words and ideas were flowing, I was expressing my opinions clearly...I knew I was on a roll.
I tucked the paper into my binder to bring to class the following day. I was more confident and excited about this essay than any I had written in awhile. I knew it was good.
The next day, I was waiting outside the library on a break between classes, and I was talking to a friend of mine who had taken the same English Lit course the previous semester. I was telling him about our study of the "The Tyger" and about the essay I had written.
My friend said he remembered studying the poem, too, and asked if he could take a look at my paper. Proudly, I reached into my binder and pulled it out.
My friend read the paper in silence, then handed it back to me with a shake of his head. "You've got it all wrong," he said. "I just had that class last semester, and you're way off base on a lot of things you wrote in there."
He then proceeded, point by point, to tear down my essay. By the time he had finished telling me everything that was wrong with my analysis, it was almost time for class. Time to turn it in.
I remember feeling panicked. I had to re-write the essay!! Looking at it through my friend's eyes, I suddenly saw how bad the paper was. It was awful. Horrible. The worst paper ever written.
I was frantically trying to figure out how I could write a completely new paper in five minutes. No way. It wasn't possible. I had no choice but to turn in this utterly lousy excuse for an essay.
I remember feeling so embarrassed and ashamed to even pass the paper in to the front of the class. How could I have ever thought my paper was any good?
A few days later, our instructor showed up for class with the familiar stack of rubber banded essays on top of a pile of books. They were graded and ready to be returned to us.
I slumped down in my seat, bracing myself for a low grade and lots of comments written in red... "missed the point entirely", "way off base here", and "poor example". My paper was a humiliating fiasco, and my instructor was probably shocked at my poor performance.
When the bell rang for class to begin, our instructor picked up our papers and said, "I've got your essays all graded, and I'll pass them out to you in a moment. But before I do, I want to read one of them aloud to the class as an example of an excellent paper. It's the only paper that got an A+. It's very well done, and exactly what I was hoping for when I gave this assignment."
Well, I hope you can guess whose paper she read. :-)
But after the initial rush of happiness and relief had subsided, I remember feeling so angry and annoyed...not with my friend (although I made it a point to show him my big A+ later!), but with myself.
Why had I let someone, just a random student like myself, completely shake my confidence in what I had known was a good piece of work?
He wasn't a teacher. He wasn't even a teacher's assistant. In fact, I think he barely squeaked out of English Lit with a C.
Why had I given his opinion more weight and validity than my own? Why had I believed so strongly that his pronouncement of my paper was right, and my own was wrong?
Why? Because I always doubt myself. I always second guess my opinions. I always assume other people know more than I do.
And, granted, often they do.
But there are times when I know that what I feel and believe is valid and true and real. I know it with every fiber of my being.
Those are the times I want to learn to be strong. I want to learn to listen to my heart and trust my gut when it tells me something is important.
I want to be able to hear that wise little voice that lives deep inside, and I want to respect it when it speaks to me.
That little voice inside of each of us is the voice that knows what is best.
No matter how loudly people try to dissuade you or convince you through logic or sheer salesmanship to go along with them, don't do it.
Ignore the shouts. Tune out the bold pronouncements of self-appointed authorities. Don't listen to the advice of well-meaning friends or people who try to get you to do things "for your own good".
Listen to your heart.
It's quiet. It doesn't bully or pressure. But it knows.
