My natural response to feeling insecure or powerless in a situation is self-destructive behavior. I have used drugs, alcohol, married and otherwise unavailable men. I have used and abused people, and I have allowed them to do the same to me. Many times, I have often wondered at this peculiar personality trait but never took the time to over-analyze it. These days, it seems I have nothing but time to analyze myself...not always a good thing.
Why do I insist of punishing myself further when I am already feeling low? Why would I want to engage in behavior that is sure to make the entire situation worse?
Have I engaged in so much self-destructive behavior, have I done so many horrible things, have I betrayed so many people that I believe that I don’t deserve real happiness?
Am I so scared of my own past that I feel guilty for trying to just do things like normal (there’s a subjective term) people? While I understand that my future is completely up to me, part of me worries that my past dictates a lot of that future. Anyone who knows the things I have done will just be waiting for the other shoe to drop, and nothing I ever say or do can change that. You cannot prove a theory, only disprove it.
Overall, I am a good person. I know this about myself; I just forget it a lot. I'm smart and sweet and loving and I care about people...so why do I do these things guaranteed to hurt myself and the people who love me?
Maybe I don't forget I am a good person. Maybe I know it deep inside, always, and that's why I don't understand the bad things that happen to me. Maybe I have to create a reason to be "bad" to validate why these things happen to me. Maybe I have to create a reason to deserve to be punished so cruelly by The Universe so it all doesn't seem so unfair. It's easier to still have faith in The Universe if you deserve your punishment rather than having to accept that horrific things can happen to good, undeserving people.
Maybe finally realizing what motivates me to hurt myself over and over again will stop the endless cycle.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Broken Toy
Most people think that broken toys are ruined, but I have learned, for some people, it’s what they prefer.
You spend your life with someone, you begin to believe what they think of you. Even if it’s mildly off-base or flat-out wrong, you start to see it their way. You believe what they believe.
I lived with someone for so long who told me I was fat and stupid and lazy, that I started to believe it. Once I was away from him, I started to see myself for what I really am, what I used to believe I am, and that’s someone pretty fucking spectacular. I remember now who I used to be; the person I was before I was broken.
I was fun. I was free with my love, not because I was insecure, but because I had enough love to give, I wanted to share it. I was witty. I was the person my friends turned to for my wisdom and my blatant honesty, I never pulled punches. I was beautiful. I smiled all the time for no reason, except that I wanted everyone around me to be happy, too.
Why would someone want to break a toy like that? Insecurity? I believe it’s what makes the world go ‘round.
I guess how I got broken does not matter. The simple fact is, I was broken and ruined. Instead of being the bright shiny toy in the window, I was now the battered doll at the bottom of the Lost & Found box.
Being stuck at the bottom of the box gives you a lot of time to think. As openly as I try to lead my life, I drive myself insane, figuring out my motivations, analyzing everything and then overanalyzing my evaluations. What motivated me to do this? Why do I like that? What is wrong with me?
I am raw. I feel things too strongly. I let my neuroses get the better of me most of the time. I overreact. I hurt. I confront. I talk too much. I curse. I cry.
But at least I am real. At least I am finally feeling things again.
At last, I have figured it out. I cannot wait for someone to come along and fix me. This box is dark and lonely and no one may ever rescue me. I certainly cannot waste anymore time with men who prefer me broken. They end up leaving you even more damaged in the end.
I guess I am going to have to fix myself.
You spend your life with someone, you begin to believe what they think of you. Even if it’s mildly off-base or flat-out wrong, you start to see it their way. You believe what they believe.
I lived with someone for so long who told me I was fat and stupid and lazy, that I started to believe it. Once I was away from him, I started to see myself for what I really am, what I used to believe I am, and that’s someone pretty fucking spectacular. I remember now who I used to be; the person I was before I was broken.
I was fun. I was free with my love, not because I was insecure, but because I had enough love to give, I wanted to share it. I was witty. I was the person my friends turned to for my wisdom and my blatant honesty, I never pulled punches. I was beautiful. I smiled all the time for no reason, except that I wanted everyone around me to be happy, too.
Why would someone want to break a toy like that? Insecurity? I believe it’s what makes the world go ‘round.
I guess how I got broken does not matter. The simple fact is, I was broken and ruined. Instead of being the bright shiny toy in the window, I was now the battered doll at the bottom of the Lost & Found box.
Being stuck at the bottom of the box gives you a lot of time to think. As openly as I try to lead my life, I drive myself insane, figuring out my motivations, analyzing everything and then overanalyzing my evaluations. What motivated me to do this? Why do I like that? What is wrong with me?
I am raw. I feel things too strongly. I let my neuroses get the better of me most of the time. I overreact. I hurt. I confront. I talk too much. I curse. I cry.
But at least I am real. At least I am finally feeling things again.
At last, I have figured it out. I cannot wait for someone to come along and fix me. This box is dark and lonely and no one may ever rescue me. I certainly cannot waste anymore time with men who prefer me broken. They end up leaving you even more damaged in the end.
I guess I am going to have to fix myself.
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