self-esteem

I nearly had an affair with a married man once.  But I didn’t.  I had been divorced for about 8 years, was extremely lonely and sad, and this man, charm personified, preyed on me. 

I would say I had a dalliance with him – we shared the same social group each week.  But I didn’t ever succumb to more than that.   I’m glad I didn’t.  It would have been catastrophic to my already fragile emotional state.

It took me a long time, but eventually I overcame my attachment to him. It was very difficult. I resisted the very strong inclination to have a physically and emotionally intimate relationship with him. I yearned for a complete relationship;  He only wanted the physical. I think I knew that, deep down, all along. He would have taken what he wanted, and then discarded me, just like, in fact, my husband had done.  I would have been in a worse state than I already was. I hadn't repeated the pattern.

But why didn’t I surrender to his advances?  

Because I had a strong moral code, and this would have been breaking it.

How did I find the strength to resist this man when the temptation was so strong?

I have a very rich and empowering Christian faith.

So, I followed my “intellectual” moral compass and I drew on my spiritual relationship with God, to find the strength to stick to my resolve. I find I have a great deal of self-esteem.  Why do I?

I am someone with none of the generally accepted requirements for self-esteem.  I am divorced. I have no status (in fact, I have what I call anti-status, because I’ve been a single parent, and because of that... a hated welfare recipient).  I perform an essential but mind-numbingly ordinary job; I have no wealth (in fact I have a low income);  I drive a fairly old car and I live in a little brick-veneer house.  In the world’s eyes, I have failed at marriage.  When my husband left me and abandoned his children, I went out to work as a clerk, took out a mortgage, and trod a very hardworking and frugal road, bringing my three children up myself, without any financial help from him.  Six years ago, my beautiful son was killed in a workplace accident.  I am a battler. Despite these things, there has been this rising of self-worth, like a clear calm stream, falling on my battered senses, with the cadence of a serene melody.

How big a part does following our own rules for living, combined with a connection to a higher power, establish an unbreakable self-esteem in the blueprint of our selves – a rock solid knowledge that we have worth as people?

Huge.

How does it happen?  You need to have a moral set of rules, and I guess much of that can be found in Christianity;  do to others as you would have them do to you;  love your neighbour as you love yourself.  But, when faced with a moral dilemma, and you are emotionally vulnerable, you can't consistently live out those rules, without connection to a higher power.  Religion just won't cut it.  You have to connect to God in your spirit.

To resist the lure of this man required self-control, and that's a spiritual attribute - it's to do with the heart and the emotions.  You might think, in your head "this will not be a good thing to do", but can you carry it through when loneliness is like a constant toothache?

My emotions were weakened by years of a very difficult lifestyle - loss and grief and hard work.  The offer of relationship seemed like bright healing balm.

But I knew it was against my moral compass.  I was like a moth dancing around a deadly flame.  

To throw myself on the power of God was to invite Him to live in my heart and soul.  He bestows so graciously and resolutely, the fruit of His divine character - love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness.  And self-control. The desire for this man did not dampen immediately.  It was a battle. But I was able to keep him at arm's length.  A moment's weakness and all would have been lost.  But God promises to keep us, held safe spiritually, by his power.  Gradually, I could see the real man emerge from the distorted lense of my loneliness.  He was a predator. I used to think he was locked in a loveless marriage.  Perhaps he was; but he chose to stay in it's financially comfortable lifestyle.  He was, I think, a "serial adulterer".  Whatever. I gradually dismissed him from my emotions.  The moth, with barely-scorched wings, flew off, her heart untroubled. 

I had earned my own respect.