I do not know what most of those letters mean, but an “OBE” or “Chevalier des ordres des arts et lettres” after my name sounds fancy. Perhaps a “Lady” before my name too – can women be knighted?
Realistically, the only other letters I could possibly achieve is “PhD”, and that is not even in the horizon.
Despite my years of reflections and working on self-awareness, I find the concept of “I am being me” illusive.
In ephemeral moments, I feel that I am in my essence – that I was transcending society’s judgments with a genuine self-confidence, and that this whole Bearapy-inner-child-playfulness-consulting business would fly.
All it takes is watching a Ted Talk by some authority figure, or seeing another person in a similar realm, or a Instagramer who has million more followers than me when we are all posting bears for me to crash into self-doubt and a hater mode for those who I thought was full of crap but known as an “expert.” Or, an envy towards those who were a Global Young Leader, got an award from the queen, a XYZ Scholar etc.
These titles, awards, recognition, matter to me. A lot. More than I would like, more than I think I should crave.
In some way, the philosophy goes that once we gain self-awareness, our vanity diminishes and we stop seeking for these worldly goods and measures. Ah… judgment…
I convinced myself that I had to forgo those comforts and affirmations. On the contrary. People buy handbags, shoes, jewellery, sports cars – my addiction is towards titles, degrees, knowledge, and a public acknowledgement of me as a learned person.
Most of this vanity comes from my insecurity that I do not possess the knowledge I seek. The other part because it sounds fancy to be “Lady Noch Noch, TRE, Chevalier des oursons, Global Young Bearalist.” I have a superiority complex and regard myself as more capable than most. Yes, and I find flying cattle class miserable and avoid it like a plague. Starrie bear’s diva attitude would pale in comparison.
I go into ballistic mode when I read an article about depression in some publication, and think, “I could have written that!” and scoff when another depression blog is “listed as the top resource blah blah blah.”
I am not so generous. I do not want to share. I want this Bearapy to be MY thing. I want to be a thought-leader, I want to people to go “WOW! She was inspiring!” after my talks.
I am no saint. So in my quest for being me, I now officially admit that I yearn for worldly measures and pine for recognition. I accept this is who I am. So there.