I don’t like myself very much right now, which is actually surefire evidence that I care more for myself than I’m willing to admit.
If I didn’t hold such an exalted opinion of myself, I wouldn’t mind that I’m not living up to my own particular standards, so in thinking poorly of myself, I’m actually arguing that I’m a better person than I appear to be which is, after all, a fairly narcissistic conception of who I imagine myself to be.
It’s like the so-called “Paradox of the Rakehell” in which we recognize that paradoxical nature of feeling bad for having done something shameful. When I do so, I end up feeling a little bit better because I recognize myself as the sort of person who has finely-developed enough sensibilities to feel poorly when he acts badly. I feel good for feeling bad, in other words, when I should, strictly speaking, only feel bad.
So here, as I silently castigate myself for not being more industrious, more altruistic, or more generous with my time and money, I’m implicitly holding myself up as an ideal of some sort; I’m claiming that I’m such a good person that I can judge myself as a lesser one. See what high standards I have? See how refined are my attitudes? See what an exemplary judge of character I am?
Of course, I’m also making an assessment of this very behavior, as well. I’m judging myself for judging myself, and in doing so, making a case that I’m even a better person than the one who merely judges. It’s an infinite series of ever-higher levels of admirableness, none of which I can ever, by definition, attain. And yet, in recognizing the hopelessness of this endeavor, I confidently assert that I’m always one step above where I appear to be.
None of this really makes me feel any better about myself, but as we’ve seen, the worse I feel, the better I am.
If I didn’t hold such an exalted opinion of myself, I wouldn’t mind that I’m not living up to my own particular standards, so in thinking poorly of myself, I’m actually arguing that I’m a better person than I appear to be which is, after all, a fairly narcissistic conception of who I imagine myself to be.
It’s like the so-called “Paradox of the Rakehell” in which we recognize that paradoxical nature of feeling bad for having done something shameful. When I do so, I end up feeling a little bit better because I recognize myself as the sort of person who has finely-developed enough sensibilities to feel poorly when he acts badly. I feel good for feeling bad, in other words, when I should, strictly speaking, only feel bad.
So here, as I silently castigate myself for not being more industrious, more altruistic, or more generous with my time and money, I’m implicitly holding myself up as an ideal of some sort; I’m claiming that I’m such a good person that I can judge myself as a lesser one. See what high standards I have? See how refined are my attitudes? See what an exemplary judge of character I am?
Of course, I’m also making an assessment of this very behavior, as well. I’m judging myself for judging myself, and in doing so, making a case that I’m even a better person than the one who merely judges. It’s an infinite series of ever-higher levels of admirableness, none of which I can ever, by definition, attain. And yet, in recognizing the hopelessness of this endeavor, I confidently assert that I’m always one step above where I appear to be.
None of this really makes me feel any better about myself, but as we’ve seen, the worse I feel, the better I am.
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