Tag Archives: self-worth

Thank you :)

Thank you for the wonderful words of support around my last entry. You all rock and know how to make a girl feel loved! the entry came about when thinking about the question of why goodbyes are so hard. I’ve been told I have a particularly difficult time with them (they can be excruciating). There’s more to my reasoning than what I talk about there, but I’m not ready to express that publicly just yet (it’s nothing major, just a confirmation of what I’ve suspected in relation to where my attitudes originate)…

I do have to admit though, I’m feeling like a fraud reading your amazingly wonderful comments. The inner critic doesn’t even let me finish reading before she starts on her tirade: “drama queen! You’ve made people lie about wanting you around. You’re fishing for compliments. This is so¬†manipulative. You know you’re not worth anything to anyone. Even L just stays out of pity. People don’t actually like you, they just think you’re pathetic and a decent charity case…” She drones on and on, but you get the gist.

I do my best to block her out and counter her words. Compliments are really difficult for me to take, but I’m learning. So thank you again for your wonderful words of support. They spark my inner critic, but they also help shut her up. You all have no reason to lie. There’s no obligation to like and follow my blog. She needs to stop talking and take a seat for a while ūüėČ

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Feeling urgency

I’m not sure what it is. I’m trying to figure out the driving force behind this intense desire to see TM again and to try to talk about this again. It always kicks in. Once I open the door to starting to talk about anything vulnerable at all, I need to just be able to spill it. All of it. At one time.
I feel this desire to talk myself into exhaustion. It’s like all this stuff needs to come out of me and into… I don’t even know. Someone who can safely hold it? Someone who can throw it out? Someplace other than myself, but also someplace safe.
It’s not attachment related, because I have no attachment to TM at this point. (Actually, I think this need to divulge is stronger before I know the person… maybe. I’m not sure though, since I know this urgency is also there after I’ve grown to know and trust the therapist). Maybe it really is just related to a need to share this with another safe (neutral, non-judgemental, uninvested) human being, to not being alone with it all…

I find myself trying to think about history and diagnoses, and how this desire (though gods, does it ever feel like a need) fits into the puzzle. is it part of the ptsd, the bpd, the self esteem issues, the anxiety? What? Where does it fit? Is it legit to talk about and ask for? Is it just part of the human condition to need to be able to be completely honest with someone? I know there’s thoughts floating by that contradict one another right now. One questions if anyone would actually like me as a human being if they knew everything, every dark secret? Would I still be worthy of breath if they saw the real me? Another thought wonders if they may be more OK with the concept of me as a human being if they knew all the motivations and fears behind everything I think and do. One thought looks for validation while another thought is sure judgement will follow. Will I turn out to be the horrid person I’m afraid I am if you see everything that makes up “me”? Or will it give you a deeper understanding of all that appears to be random craziness and weirdness and awkwardness? Please don’t hate me, but please prove my fears right, and prove them wrong, and hate me, and…

There’s so much inner conflict around my self-worth. There’s all these years of that little voice saying I’m worthless and stupid, but it’s being countered by the voices of everyone who has tried to convince me I have value. It’s very loud and confusing. Sometimes one is winning, other times the other is. Right now, I think the voice that whispers “they will (should!) hate me if they knew everything” is the driving force behind the need for disclosure. I want validation that the voice is merely a fear, and not reality. And I need to find that validation. Right now, no one knows everything. No one has all the puzzle pieces with all the disconcerting revelations, so I’m not sure they wouldn’t hate me if they knew everything. But I’m also not sure I would believe they knew everything if they didn’t hate me (because how can you look at me, all my dark secrets and blackness and not hate me, not think I’m vile and disgusting and scary?)… I think I need people to prove I’m worth life, but I have a feeling I won’t believe them unless they say I’m worthless. It’s a wonderful little trap. “Please, please, please say I’m an OK human?” You’re an OK human being “Fuck you, you don’t really know me unless you hate me! (But gods, please know me and don’t hate me)”…


I admitted something I never expected…

… and it’s not what you may think: I told my wife that I had actually seriously considered giving up our little dog on more than one occasion. ¬†The people who know me in real life would know how incredibly out of character this admission is, but the rest of you may not quite get the full impact. ¬†My animals are my children, and my dogs are held highest of all of them. ¬†My little dog (we shall call him “Fred” to protect his real identity) is joined at the hip to my lab. ¬†He would not know how to survive without her (he is a totally different dog when he is separated from her, shaking and moping even when it’s just for a few hours). ¬†When he’s near her though, he is a little punk. ¬†He has been known to kill cats, and will try for the kill any chance he gets. ¬†We had managed to get that under a measure of control a while ago, but he’s back to his antics again (totally our fault). ¬†Recently, out large male cat has decided to move in with a couple at the other end of the neighborhood. ¬†We think this is because a few weeks ago, Fred managed to slip between my legs and chase the cat, most likely cornering him and hurting him in some way. ¬†After that incident, the cat refused to return to the house. ¬†Today, we had to go pick him up after the couple trapped him in their garage. ¬†I feel bad for him (and our other cats). ¬†They are social. ¬†They miss spending time with us. ¬†They miss the cuddles, and so do I. ¬†I really love Fred, but he’s such a pain in the butt. ¬†I won’t actually move to give him up (I would also be forced to give up the lab who happens to be my favorite dog), but I just need to remind myself that consistency matters a lot, especially with Fred. ¬†There are some dogs you can be more lax with, but then there are the ones that will become a menace if allowed to take any hint of leadership. ¬†Sadly, we give Fred a lot of room to walk all over us. ¬†I need to remember what my trainer friend told me and keep him on a short leash (figuratively).

Knowing that I admitted out loud that I have considered re-homing Fred has messed with my head a bit. ¬†Like I said, my dogs are my kids. ¬†To seriously think of giving one up has only ever been admitted when I was suicidal. ¬†I have moved more times than I can count to be able to keep my pets. ¬†I have bent over backwards and given up a lot to have them in my life. ¬†To know I actually thought of re-homing that little punk because he upsets the rest of the family dynamic has my head spinning…There’s a voice in my head screaming at me; telling me I’m worthless and useless and I just don’t care. ¬†There’s judgement beyond belief for even having the thoughts. ¬†There’s fear and resentment, and there’s anger. ¬†The anger comes not only from what other people think of all the animals, but also from my changing attitudes. ¬†They still fill a void, but I’m finding that they also create a whole lot of drama. ¬†My depression makes it hard to motivate to do anything beyond the basics for them. ¬†They are going stir-crazy, and we are all slacking on the training (especially for the puppy). ¬†I find myself becoming angry at them for misbehaving when it’s all my fault for not being consistent and giving them what they need. ¬†I’m turning more and more into my father, and I hate myself for it…

I look around myself and see all this material crap that I really don’t want anymore. ¬†It feels like all of this is weighing me/us down. ¬†I wish I didn’t waste money on a lot of this crap. ¬†I wish I didn’t have piles and piles of “junk” lying around… I wish I had motivation to take care of things. ¬†And I wish I knew how to remember to save money. ¬†The animals need more flea stuff, and they need to get out of the house. ¬†If I had the money, I would have gotten the puppy training also. ¬†There are a bunch of behaviors I just don’t know how to tackle anymore, nor do I have the energy to try. ¬†The same with Fred. ¬†And I hate myself a lot. ¬†I know I made this commitment to them, but I’m not following through… ¬†I know the steps to take for some of it, but the energy and motivation disappear quickly. ¬†The more I fall into the cycle of wanting to do things but failing, then being hard on myself for it, the more I just feel like crap about everything. I start spiraling down a litany of things that I see wrong with myself: my weight, my social life, my motivation, my lack of working, my self-worth, my worth to others… De is right that I get trapped in my thinking and it just makes everything worse. ¬†But then there’s that tiny voice in my head that whispers possible solutions… Maybe it’s time to start with baby steps to fix things…