Something no one ever really talks about that occurs during the so-called ‘healing journey’ is the intense self-criticism that arises from a setback.
It seems to come from nowhere: one minute you’re making
progress and you’re embracing the self-love and the next you can feel the tears
pressing down on your throat again. The familiar prickle of quickened breath. The
tension stricken across your face. You turn inward, you check in with your body.
And you’re just so fucking tired. Although you have felt these things so many
times before, they horrify you more this time. I thought I was getting better,
you lament.
After you’ve left the bad relationship, after you’ve spent
hundreds on therapy, after you’ve started to make better choices and reap the
rewards… You’re still hanging on to the handle of the oven door on a Tuesday
night, sobbing because you just can’t fucking do it anymore.
In your logical brain, you know this is normal. Everyone gets
overwhelmed sometimes. But a much louder (and more psychotic) part of your
brain is waving this around in the air as evidence. We’re still broken, we
failed, we still can’t fucking cope, it jeers, dancing around in circles,
vindicated at last.
I’ve said fuck a lot of times already. Bear with me. Of
course, as an English teacher I have an extensive vocabulary, but sometimes only
fuck will suffice.
This morning I have rationalised; our brains love to revert
to the toxic thought patterns that they’ve always relied upon. I’m not good
enough is my brain’s default. I’ve told myself throughout my life that the
reason people cross my boundaries (and worse) is because I am not worth respect.
This started when I was very little. I felt a strange, delicious sense of
relief as I realised I wasn’t coping and I hated myself for it, because getting
better is hard. What feels beautifully, deliciously easy is giving in. Confirming
what you’ve always known to be true.
That’s no use to anyone, though. It’s not even remotely
true, either. When I look properly at the things that made me reach that point last
night, I see that much of it is out of my control. I work hard, I care about people,
I will always help people if I can. I don’t deserve most of the bad things that
have happened to me. Karma is not as clear cut as that, anyway. And some people
are just pricks.
I’m not sure what the point of this post is. I think it’s
just to reiterate to myself that I’m not a failure and I can cope. I got upset
one time. That’s valid.
Recognising your own dangerous thought patterns and trying
to rewrite them is a big step. I’m much further along in my healing process
that I give myself credit for, because now I can see that my worthiness is not
tied to single events or actions. But, I deserve to respect myself and advocate
for myself in the same way that I would for someone I love. That’s true
self-love. If Chlo or Meg or Britt felt this way, I would (literally) fight for
them, so why won’t I do that for myself? If they told me they felt really down,
I would believe them and validate them. So why do I gaslight myself in to
thinking what I feel isn’t that bad? Why do I let myself suffer for so long? Hum.
Love always,
Char
