12. That Voice Inside
This is a hard time for me. Christmas is a time I usually spent with my family, but they are so far away and for the first time, I will be spending Christmas all alone.
So many things are whirling through my brain. That constant outward focusing is not taking its demise lightly. If I am not diligent, it is there, firmly ensconsed in my head, leading me down the path of safety and familiarity; a path that will not help me at all. Its devious role sooths while dragging me back into the murky quagmire of pain and confusion and the false self that came into being to protect me from pain as a child.
A few words from my mother hurls me headfirst into paranoia and the world of the black and white thinkers. Her world that, because I am her child, is my world, too.
Yet again, that place she had me is not where I want to be; it's the same place the outward focusing takes me to: away from my real self.
I constantly remind myself I am hurt and injured and I am so sad over that. Yet that voice pipes up every time I think about this, every time I allow the sadness to well within. It refutes my feelings, invalidates them. It tells me things weren't that bad, you're being a drama queen, you're into histrionics, you're exaggerating.
Before I would have accepted it, pulled myself together and moved on. Now I see how unhealthy that is right now. I now squash that voice, tell it it's wrong. It starts up again, but I'm beginning to notice, not so loud.
But the times I need to watch are when I am feeling down, vulnerable, already in a bad place. It then runs wild and sometimes I don't notice until the pain is much worse than it ever should be.
I am learning to retrain myself, to badger that voice back where it should be, a warning that I'm wallowing unnessarily. It's learning what's true, what's right. And I know that voice inside is the faulty one, not me.
If I look back at myself over the past ten or fifteen years, I can see the forward momentum. It may not be much at times, but baby steps are still steps forward, and the voice has slowly been losing momentum and power, and my choices in romantic partners have been improving as have the way I handle my struggle with intimacy and all the baggage I bring to it.
Even in this last relationship, though I was unable to control those seemingly irrational behaviours all the time; there were times when I could, times when I was able to explain this is why I'm the way I am. And that is something. A very big something.
I just need to keep reminding myself that the voice is faulty, not me.
Under this I'm a pretty amazing person. Unique and talented and someone worth knowing. I don't believe it all the time and I know I'll never be perfect, but that's just because I'm human, not a disaster, not a freak. But I'm starting to believe in my own self-worth more and more.
Because that voice is the faulty one. Not me.
So many things are whirling through my brain. That constant outward focusing is not taking its demise lightly. If I am not diligent, it is there, firmly ensconsed in my head, leading me down the path of safety and familiarity; a path that will not help me at all. Its devious role sooths while dragging me back into the murky quagmire of pain and confusion and the false self that came into being to protect me from pain as a child.
A few words from my mother hurls me headfirst into paranoia and the world of the black and white thinkers. Her world that, because I am her child, is my world, too.
Yet again, that place she had me is not where I want to be; it's the same place the outward focusing takes me to: away from my real self.
I constantly remind myself I am hurt and injured and I am so sad over that. Yet that voice pipes up every time I think about this, every time I allow the sadness to well within. It refutes my feelings, invalidates them. It tells me things weren't that bad, you're being a drama queen, you're into histrionics, you're exaggerating.
Before I would have accepted it, pulled myself together and moved on. Now I see how unhealthy that is right now. I now squash that voice, tell it it's wrong. It starts up again, but I'm beginning to notice, not so loud.
But the times I need to watch are when I am feeling down, vulnerable, already in a bad place. It then runs wild and sometimes I don't notice until the pain is much worse than it ever should be.
I am learning to retrain myself, to badger that voice back where it should be, a warning that I'm wallowing unnessarily. It's learning what's true, what's right. And I know that voice inside is the faulty one, not me.
If I look back at myself over the past ten or fifteen years, I can see the forward momentum. It may not be much at times, but baby steps are still steps forward, and the voice has slowly been losing momentum and power, and my choices in romantic partners have been improving as have the way I handle my struggle with intimacy and all the baggage I bring to it.
Even in this last relationship, though I was unable to control those seemingly irrational behaviours all the time; there were times when I could, times when I was able to explain this is why I'm the way I am. And that is something. A very big something.
I just need to keep reminding myself that the voice is faulty, not me.
Under this I'm a pretty amazing person. Unique and talented and someone worth knowing. I don't believe it all the time and I know I'll never be perfect, but that's just because I'm human, not a disaster, not a freak. But I'm starting to believe in my own self-worth more and more.
Because that voice is the faulty one. Not me.
posted by a girl at 12:00 PM
1 Comments:
Wow. You continue to amaze me with your writing.
Christmas IS a hard time. For a lot of people. I really understand where you are at, with the voices. I have my own voices too. I wish I could say they are not so loud anymore, but they are.
I'm glad that you are able to see that you are an amazing person, and to acknowledge that.
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