Tag: self worth

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Being what you are does not make a change.

tec

It’s never any surprise to me that the universe continually shows up for me.

I will never stop finding it both amusing and fascinating, even amidst the heartache.

R’s session shook me. I kept feeling compelled to have the whys and the hows or even the minutest detail or example. I wanted to know how she could possibly feel this way and how I could possibly fix it. I had question after question. I wanted to be heard. And validated.

The funny thing about having had so much therapy and actively pursuing personal growth and having so much self-awareness is that all the questions just make me make that squished up face. That feeling of “I wanna put the square peg in the round hole but obviously that’s not gonna work but lemme try to quasi attempt it this way and I know it’s pointless, but, like, if I can match them up juuuuuust right then….maybe…”

The problem is I want to ask all the wrong people the questions. Because I want to be validated. Because I don’t want to be seen as what I’m not. Because of my disbelief. Because it hurts to show up over and over and be pushed away and to show up more and, at the end of the day, have all that showing up feel to someone else the exact opposite of what it was to me.

They aren’t the right people tho.

All of my reasoning and logic and personal growth tell me that my daughter and her therapist are not to be my source of validation.

It’s moot. No matter how much it hurts and no matter how much I want to stomp my feet.

So after we left the appointment I shut up. And I didn’t burden my already hurting 16 year old with my pains. And I told the voices in my head to fuck off. And I considered, “If she views me as the person in her life who has made her feel worthless, despite all my effort to the exact contrary, does it change anything? Would I call it quits on her because her lens is skewed? Would I throw guilt and resentment her way because her translator is broken? Would I go against my who merely because this hurts so damn much?”

Nope. Nope times infinity. Nope to the core of my being.

So when I ran into the store on the way home, I bought her a succulent. Because she said she feels invisible. And you can’t buy things for invisible people. Thereby practically saying, “You aren’t invisible, girl. I see you. Take this tiny succulent and know I love you. I am here.”

And then I went home and called my sponsor.

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Yesterday a child came out to wonder.

tec

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It feels like this was specifically written for me. It is words I haven’t been able to find for myself. It’s not answers. But it’s something.

It’s a spark.

I don’t yet have a real grasp on…who I am. I know the what’s. I know I’m silver lining girl and mom and wife. I know I lead with gratitude and kindness and perseverance. I know I practice and practice and practice.

I know I don’t have a clear grasp of my special qualities and skills. I know Chris rolls his eyes when I say “yeah, but everyone is always working toward active growth and progress!” ….which is apparently not quite true. And then he rolls his eyes again when I say, “yeah, but I had no choice to keep going!!” Which…again, apparently, not true.

But I don’t know these things. I thought everyone just kept reaching for more self-awareness and growth. I didn’t know “just keep swimming” was a suggestion.

So here I have these, apparently, special attributes. And a huge lack of confidence to go with them. Apparently I’m super self aware, but only to my weaknesses.

So I’m on a ladder.

And I see soooooooo many people above me. And so many people below me. The people who are also working toward having some of their shit together and who are making so much money. And the people who have no shit together and are raking it in. The people decluttering, but not to the best of my ability (super vulnerable moment here where I admit my judginess. Which I totally realize stems solely from my own insecurity…). Or worse yet, they’re not decluttering to the best of their ability! And they don’t even care! (vulnerable moment #2 because fuckin’ a, other people are none of my business and I know this and I’m making them my business anyway!) The people who are drowning in depression or anxiety or addiction. The people drowning in their spouse’s addictions. The people who sound like they’re sucking up to people I admire and having their response be eaten up. Me, being publicly vulnerable, and reaching out to these same people I admire, and having their responses feel lacking when I confide. Then I second guess myself and wonder if I sounded….sucking up-esque.

Ohmygosh, I’ve just gone back and reread what I wrote and it all sounds exhausting! There are so many people on the ladder and I haven’t learned how to turn my brain off about them! Or about myself!

Mostly, not turning my brain off has only served to make me feel inferior. And then I constantly have this sense of “I can’t do anything right” when it comes to interacting with others. And all I want is to connect with people and all I’ve managed so far is to make that impossible.

I lead with love on the surface, but below the surface I am waiting in fear for the next person to pounce me and put me in my place or tell me I’m wrong or that I’m no good.

I feel like I’m getting closer. I feel like the puzzle pieces are moving around and a clearer picture is trying to come into focus. I can feel the uncomfortable forces of change stirring around me–stirring within me. I know it’s time to dig deep and lean into it. I know I’m scared. I know it’s worth it. I know, one day, I will feel worth it.

I need to step off the ladder.

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Sentiments, like shadows, grow.

tec

I have a compulsion this morning to weigh myself. I know it’s just that–a compulsion.

I know the rational. It doesn’t negate the irrational.

Logically I know that, whatever the number on the scale, it isn’t indicative of my health or my progress or even really my weight. Logically.

I considered scratching the itch. I considered getting out the scale and just seeing and then I’d know and I could go about my day and I wouldn’t entertain it again.

But that’s not how compulsion works.  Because I weighed myself over the weekend. And that doesn’t matter at all to the voice in my head. In fact, it gives the voice fodder. You lost .6 pounds. The number went down! Let’s see if it went down more. I hope it didn’t go up. Do you think it went up? We should check. Maybe it went down to the next whole number. Let’s look.

I can hear these thoughts and not listen to them. I can choose that. It’s not easy. But it’s possible.

This morning, like every morning before I get out of bed, I felt my stomach. I noticed the thinner skin and the flatter mounds. I noticed how my ribs protrude a little more. I noticed how my pelvis juts beneath the skin and the area below my belly button each day feels a bit flatter and a bit more hollow. And I thanked my body for being strong and supporting me. For keeping me alive and safe. And I told it that I’m learning how to care for it properly and kindly and I hope it can see my progress. I thanked my body for showing me progress.

I do this every morning.

This morning that routine precipitated a desire to weigh myself. To see if the number validated the bones and muscles and curves of my body. Today that routine opened a door to allow the compulsive voice in. That’s okay. It doesn’t make it a bad plan. Honoring my body is a good thing. Navigating unexpected moments is good too. My constructive routine may have played a part in opening the door, but it presented me an opportunity, and I am able to choose to gently close the door with little to no damage.

I have a compulsion, but in this moment it doesn’t have me. So I’m not weighing myself. I’m not enabling the compulsion. I’ve put in years of work for this. To stay the course for this moment. To see all the things and let all the things just be. One foot in front of the other.

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Just hold on.

tec

I’m having a moment where I’m trying to remember all our lasts. In case you don’t come back. In case the devastation of that undoes me so irrevocably that I can’t recall a single thing about today. Or yesterday.

I slept on you this morning. It was the best half hour of sleep I’ve had in months and I don’t think I ever actually slept. You kissed me and called me beautiful when I got home from my walk. I don’t want to remember that last tho…because it wasn’t you anymore.

We kissed last night. It felt like you. A glimpse of you between the drinks.

I’m trying to find the hope and the light, but it is currently too far to reach.

Your life doesn’t mean anything to you in this moment and I am now standing here, the girl who doesn’t know which story will be hers. Will I be the girl who loses you forever come morning? Will I be able to honor the me in another universe who got to keep you when I didn’t get to? Is there another me in some other universe who has already gotten the call?

I’ve never been this sick with worry and fear. They say that to keep going, you just have to put one foot in front of the other. I’m doing that, but all I can manage is pacing circles.