No matter what humanity throws at me, my own thoughts are worse. I’m harder on myself, worse than anyone else could be. I call myself names constantly and put myself and my actions down every time I try and do something. I am, absolutely, my own worst enemy.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve made dumb ass an art form. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try everything usually self-destructs the moment I’m done. I’m a perfectionist and nothing is ever good enough to guarantee me being pleased or proud of my accomplishments.
I didn’t just call myself negative names, I wore them proudly, It was almost my identity, who I was at the time. I carried them almost proudly. I related to names like loser, degenerate, useless, stupid, naive. And in some sense, I was. I was very naive, unable to realize I was in danger until it was too late. And then too stupid to escape from it. Crazy? I was proud of that too. It was who I was tied up with ribbons made from disrespect for myself and my actions. My caregivers, the people supposed to be parents, gave me those names and yes in a way I grew into them.
Everything had to be perfect so I’d receive approval rather than derogatory comments. However, perfect was illusive. It came in many forms and most were acceptable to me. The trap, I would verbally say I was stupid, crazy or an idiot and my friends, the people I talked to daily all thought maybe I was right. I’d happily describe my flaws as being done by an idiot. So people would look for the perceived flaw, expecting to find a problem. And typically there wasn’t one to be found. I was just overly critical.
I would stay up all night perfecting a presentation for my job. Hours toiling over getting it just right, needs to be bigger, it needs to be more. Before I knew it I had what looked like a kick ass presentation, however, I was so tired by the time I gave it, things all came out wrong and I was left standing like I didn’t know what I was doing. That was a problem, but one I didn’t recognize for years. I would say good things never happen to me because I didn’t feel like I deserved good things. I wasn’t able to accept the good without dissecting it for danger, what could go wrong, what I did wrong.
Again, it all boils down to my early conditioning. I was called stupid and an idiot. Growing up none of my accomplishments were acceptable, they could always be better. I wasn’t given praise or encouragement, I was given, what my mother calls it “tough love” so I could be better, smarter, faster, more efficient. I was a child then but treated like a fully capable adult able to produce feats that only age can teach. In my head I wondered what I was doing to be seen as so awful by my parents of all people. Good things would come from my efforts and I would be happy, satisfied until I told them. Then it wasn’t good enough, what was I thinking, Do better next time. The story of my childhood all tangled with unkind names and comments. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair.
Now I’m realizing my foolishness, lol yup here I go again, putting myself down. My internal wiring has become tangled, I’m aware of that now. The untangling is a process, and not an easy one. To recognize good, to be proud of my accomplishments is difficult and it’s easier to think in my caregivers words that it’s less than good. Calling myself names was and is a problem. Call yourself an idiot and those are the types of people I attract. Not accomplished successful people but the ones who don’t put the actual work in. Haven’t earned the title of accomplished yet.
What I want to do, no what I need to do is remove all those derogatory names from my head and replace them with more positive ones. The old words self-destructive, almost a self prophecy. Replaced by words that are good and that show I have tried, I did accomplish great things, I am smart and can be successful. Saying it is easy, the actual doing is going to take time and a lot of self-reflection and work. But I’ll get there, I know I will.
This time the voice in my head is really mine,
K.
I'm Still Here. Somehow... 