別把自己太當回事兒

By Melissa Dahl

There is a meme1 that speaks directly to the hearts and minds of the overly self-conscious. Perhaps youve seen it； it goes something like this： “Brain： ‘I see you are trying to sleep. May I offer you a selection of your most embarrassing memories from the past 10 years？”

At first， it seems odd to think that this meme is so popular among those of us whom you would call “millennials2，” who grew up steeped in the self-esteem movement of the 1990s. We were raised， after all， to love ourselves， not to quietly torture ourselves with decadeold memories. We were taught in classroom exercises how special we were， the prevailing pop-psych theory of the day being that high self-esteem would carry us to success.

And yet this turns out to be poor preparation for dealing with the everyday embarrassments of being human. Instead of single-mindedly3 trying to love yourself， may I suggest a selfdirected attitude that has been famously called the opposite of love： indifference.

In the 2000s， as the self-esteem movement was ageing， psychology researchers began publishing a series of papers on something called self-compassion， which Kristin Neff at the University of Texas at Austin in 2003 defined this way：

Being open to and moved by ones own suffering， experiencing feelings of caring and kindness toward oneself， taking an understanding， nonjudgmental4 attitude toward ones inadequacies and failures， and recognising that ones own experience is part of the common human experience.

Back then， much of this work sought to contrast selfcompassion with self-esteem. In one study， researchers asked college students to recall an embarrassing high-school memory. Some of the students were then given writing prompts meant to bring out their self-compassionate side； they were told to “list ways in which other people also experience similar events，” and to express “understanding， kindness， and concern to themselves in the same way that they might express concern to a friend.” In contrast， other students were given writing prompts intended to stoke5 their self-esteem； they were told to “write down their positive characteristics” and to describe why an incident wasnt really their fault—and that， anyhow， the event “does not really indicate anything about the kind of person they are.”

The point， the researchers go on to argue in that paper， subtitled “The Implications of Treating Oneself Kindly，” is that the tenets6 of self-esteem will tell you to try to convince yourself that the stupid thing you did wasnt really all that stupid—or if it was， that it was someone elses fault. Self-esteem tells you to focus on all your wonderful， positive qualities. In contrast， selfcompassion says its best to acknowledge your own role in an unflattering7 moment； when the memories come back at night， a self-compassionate person will say to herself： “Huh， yeah—that really was pretty embarrassing.”

But shell also say： “So what？” Plenty of other people have embarrassed themselves in similar ways. In the end， this study showed that those whod been prodded toward the direction of self-esteem felt worse about themselves after remembering the high-school embarrassment than those whod been led toward self-compassion.

Self-esteem has fallen out of favour， and it is starting to seem these days as if self-compassion is taking its place. The headlines that keep popping up are： “Why Self-Love Is Important and How to Cultivate It”； “Eight Powerful Steps to Self-Love”； “The Not-So-Secret Secret to Happiness： Be Kinder to Yourself， Okay？”. The focus in these stories tends to stay squarely on the first part of Neffs 15-year-old definition： “Experiencing feelings of caring and kindness toward oneself， taking an understanding， nonjudgmental attitude toward ones inadequacies and failures.” From reading many of these pieces， self-compassion seems like self-kindness， and nothing more.

But its the second part of that definition that has proven the most helpful for me： “Recognising that ones own experience is part of the common human experience.” Its the idea of taking a zoomed-out8 look at yourself， and realising that you are more similar to others than you are different， even considering how ridiculous you often are. As Neff said in an interview： “When we fail， its not ‘poor me. Its ‘well， everyone fails. Everyone struggles. This is what it means to be human.”

In fact， its this part of the definition of selfcompassion that makes me question whether it should be called self-compassion at all. Neffs concept isnt really about adoring yourself， or not entirely， anyway； this piece of it isnt actually about you. Rather， its about the importance of recalling that you are but one small part of an interconnected whole.

For me， the term “self-indifference” communicates this part of Neffs message better than her own term does： When it comes to embarrassing moments， it means considering your own highlight reel9 of flaws， and acknowledging that， yes， maybe the moment really was that bad—but then responding with a shrug.

Really， though， self-indifference and selfcompassion are just new-fangled10 terms for an ancient concept： humility. We tend to think of humility as if it means putting yourself down， a mischaracterisation that a recent study in the Journal of Applied Psychology seems to buy into in its examination of“humble leaders.” Humility in a manager， according to these researchers， is defined as “being open to admitting ones limitations， shortcomings and mistakes.” To be humble， in these researchers view， is to focus on your flaws.

But modern scholars who study humility see it differently. Humble people dont focus on their flaws. Its more that humble people dont focus on themselves very much at all. “This is not to say that a humble person fails to care about her own welfare or pursue her own interests—it is simply that she sees these as being deeply intertwined with the welfare and interests of others，” write the authors of a 2017 paper in The Journal of Positive Psychology. You are important， and you are worthy of love， just like we millennials were taught in school—but thats true only because everyone is important， and everyone is worthy of love. You matter because everyone else matters. It reminds me again of the way in which Neff defines what she would call self-compassion， and I would call self-indifference：“Recognising that ones own experience is part of the common human experience.” Maybe the most compassionate attitude you can take toward yourself is to stop obsessing over yourself.

This is the great relief of self-indifference， especially for those of us raised in the self-esteem movement. The truth is that you arent that big of a deal. And isnt that great？

有一句流行語扎了那些過于自我的人的心。也許你已經看過了；話是這么說的：“大腦：‘我注意到您要睡了。我能為您放送過去10年來您最尷尬的回憶集錦嗎？”

乍一想到這個梗在我們這些被稱為“千禧一代”的人中如此受歡迎似乎很奇怪。這批人在20世紀90年代的自尊運動中長大。畢竟，我們從小到大被教導要愛自己，別靜悄悄地用陳年往事折磨自己。我們在課堂練習中被教導我們有多么特別，那個時代盛行的流行心理學理論認為高度的自尊會帶領我們走向成功。

然而結果卻是我們沒能準備好應對那些生而為人所必經的日常尷尬。別光顧著一心一意地愛自己，請允許我提出一種自我導向的態度作為替代，這種態度十分出名，被稱為愛的對立面：淡然。

在21世紀前10年，隨著自尊運動日薄西山，心理學研究人員開始發表一系列關于自憫的論文，2003年得克薩斯大學奧斯汀分校的克麗絲廷·內夫將其定義為：

接受自己的痛苦并為自己的痛苦而感動，感受對自己的關懷和善意，對自己的不足與失敗采取理解、不偏不倚的態度，并且認識到自己的經歷是人之共有。

當時，這類研究有很多是將自憫與自尊進行對比。在一項研究中，研究人員要求大學生回想一段高中時期發生的尷尬記憶。然后，一些學生會收到用來引導出他們自憫的那一面的寫作提示；他們被要求“列出其他人也會經歷類似事件的方式”，并“像關心朋友那樣表達對自己的理解、善意和關心”。作為對比，其他學生得到的寫作提示則是為了激發出他們的自尊；他們被要求“寫下他們的積極特征”，并描述為什么某件事情并非他們的錯—— 而且，無論如何，那件事情“并不能真正反映他們是什么樣的人”。

研究人員在那篇副標題為“善待自己的意義”的論文中繼續論述道：關鍵是自尊的原則會讓你盡力說服自己，你干的蠢事兒其實并沒有那么蠢——如果確實很蠢的話，那也是別人的錯。自尊要你關注自身所有美好、積極的品質。相比之下，自憫則要你最好承認自己在某個丟臉的時刻所扮演的角色；深夜回想起來的時候，一個自憫的人會對自己說：“嗯，是的——真的尷尬死了?！?/p>

但她也會說：“那又怎樣？”很多人都會有類似的尷尬經歷。最后，這項研究表明，那些被導向自尊的學生在想起高中的尷尬事兒后，比那些被導向自憫的人感覺更糟。

自尊已經失寵，如今似乎自憫正開始取而代之。不斷涌現的頭條新聞是：《為什么自愛很重要以及如何培養它》《獲得自愛的八大步驟》《走向幸福不算秘密的秘密：對自己再好點兒，好嗎？》。這些故事傾向于把焦點完全放在內夫15年前所下定義的前一部分：“感受對自己的關懷和善意，對自己的不足與失敗采取理解、不偏不倚的態度”。通過閱讀這些文章，你會發現自憫似乎就是自愛，僅此而已。

但正是這個定義的后一部分對我最有幫助：“認識到自己的經歷是人之共有”。這個觀點就是從更遠的角度看到自己的渺小，并認識到你與其他人更相似而非更不同，甚至想想自己經常會表現得多么荒謬。正如內夫在采訪中所說的那樣：“當我們失敗時，不是‘我真可憐，而是‘好吧，人人都會失敗。人人都在掙扎。這就是生而為人的意義?！?/p>

事實上，正是自憫定義中的這一部分讓我懷疑這是否應該被稱為自憫。內夫的概念并不是要你熱愛自己，至少不完全是；這部分定義實際上并不是關于你的。相反，重要的是讓你想起自己只是一個相互關聯的整體中的一小部分。

對我來說，“自若”一詞比內夫自己的術語更能傳達她信息中的這一部分：就那些尷尬的時刻而言，這意味著想想自己人生污點的精彩回放，并且承認，是的，也許這一刻真的是很糟糕——然后聳聳肩淡然處之。

但實際上，自若和自憫只是一個古老概念——謙遜——的新說法。我們傾向于認為謙遜好像就意味著讓自己放低姿態，這是一種錯誤的描述?！稇眯睦韺W雜志》最近的一項針對“謙遜的領導者”所開展的研究似乎就犯了這個錯誤。按照這些研究人員的說法，管理者的謙遜被定義為“愿意承認自己的局限、缺點和錯誤”。謙遜，在這些研究人員看來，就是要關注你的缺點。

但研究謙遜的現代學者對此有不同的見解。謙遜的人并不關注他們的缺點。進一步來說，謙虛的人根本就不怎么關注自己?！斑@并不是說一個謙遜的人不關心自己的幸?；虿蛔非笞约旱睦妗皇撬J為這些是與他人的幸福和利益密切相關的?！薄斗e極心理學雜志》2017年的一篇論文的作者寫道。你很重要，你值得愛，就像我們千禧一代在學校里被教導的一樣—— 但這只是因為每個人都很重要，每個人都值得愛。你很重要是因為其他人都很重要。這再次讓我想起內夫所謂自憫的定義，而我會稱之為自若：“認識到自己的經歷是人之共有”。也許你可以對自己采取的最憐憫的態度就是停止對自己的迷戀。

這是自若帶來的巨大寬慰，特別是對于我們這些在自尊運動中長大的人尤其如此。事實就是，你沒什么了不起的。那不是很好嗎？

1. meme： 該詞最初源自英國著名科學家理查德·道金斯（Richard Dawkins）所著的《自私的基因》（The Selfish Gene）一書，其含義是指“在諸如語言、觀念、信仰、行為方式等的傳遞過程中與基因在生物進化過程中所起的作用類似的那個東西”。為了讀上去與gene一詞相似，道金斯去掉希臘字根mimeme（原為“模仿”之意）的詞頭mi，把它變為meme，這樣的改變還很容易使人聯想到該詞跟英文的“記憶”（memory）一詞有關，或是聯想到法文的“同樣”或“自己”（même）一詞。譯法有“媒母”“米姆”“彌母”“模因”“擬子”“文化基因”等，在流行文化中亦可翻譯為“?！?。

2. millenials： 千禧一代，是指出生于20世紀末期，在跨入21世紀以后達到成年年齡的一代人。這代人的成長時期幾乎同時和互聯網/計算機科學的形成與高速發展時期相吻合。

3. single-mindedly： 一心一意地，專心致志地。

4. nonjudgmental： 不按個人道德標準進行評定的，不偏不倚的。

5. stoke： 激起。

6. tenet： 原則，信條。

7. unflattering： 貶損的，有損形象的。

8. zoom out： 用變焦距鏡頭使景物縮小，即將景物拉遠。相反的表達是zoom in。

9. highlight reel： 精彩回放。

10. new-fangled： 新式的，新流行的。