The Narrative Sometimes Sucks…

For the last two weeks I have been tormented by recurring bouts of “not feeling good enough” and thinking, “why would anyone want to love me.” When these moments occur I am quick to consider my mental and emotional abuse with forty plus years of supportive facts and evidence as to why I am not good enough for the people in my life. My facts are clear and deafening as they resound how much of a human piece of trash I feel like I am.

Now, before you jump to my defense or a conclusion, ask yourself right now, “have I ever felt this way?” I don’t have the statistics and I am really too lazy to look them up right now, but I am guessing at least half the people reading this blog has in fact felt similar to what I have been experiencing. Some may call it something different, “a funk,” “a low mood,” or at worst- “depression.”

I have really been struggling through this, however, I am coming out on the other side as I learn what it may be about. First-the evidence…this may be a trigger to some, please take the time to care for yourself-take a bath, swim, light a candle, or drink a glass of whatever. (I chose Dalwhinnie)

EVIDENCE:

• Abused as a child; Why would someone do that to me if I was good, right??? Completely an irrational belief, however, nearly every abused victim has the same belief to battle.
• I loved most of my time, the longest job I had, but I quickly learned that no matter how hard I worked or the long hours I worked, I was still an expendable woman. Thankfully that was changed when Jay took over…by then I think it was too late.
• But the worst and longest- 22 years of unrealistic expectations by two husbands who cheated with multiple women. Some with people where I worked, some who were supposed to be friends…I was just a chump.

In the details of the evidence listed are my crying and gaslight episodes of being told I was “reading into it too much,” “nothing happened, it was a misunderstanding,” “I was pushing him away,” “you should’ve been home, instead of chasing my job,” “if you would’ve been more __________,” (fill-in the blank). It was all lies. They lied and I accepted it to keep the peace, to save myself from feeling the shame of my poor decisions.

So, here I am, in the receding flood of all the dark emotions that reinforce “not being good enough” because I have told myself I am a broken and damaged human. Or, as an alternate perspective, I have the same amount or more evidence that I can prove to myself I am worthy of love and respect. Not because of what I have to offer someone, but because they are kind and loving.

Not because the dishes, laundry, or other house work is done. Not because I work all day and help people, the kids are fed and watered, and a meal prepared and ready to go. It is because I am a human and in the realm of human kindness and love, I have and should continue to have an expectation to be given respect in my relationships with myself and others because I am a human being.

No one can write your narrative without your permission…I allowed way too much of my life to be written by others because I gave them that power. I write my own narrative now. I tell the world what I’m going to do and when I’m going to do it(mostly). I won’t give that power away again. I will feel these feelings again, however, now I will be more prepared for what they mean and how to work through them.

Who writes your narrative?

~WM~