Coming to terms…with me.

For my entire life, I have struggled with aspects of me:


I am not perfect.

I am whiny. dramatic. high maintenance. 

I am not worthy of being loved or liked, just for me.

If I don’t make another person happy, that person will leave me.


Even though I have always considered myself a sunny and positive person–and even though most people who know me would probably describe me as an optimist, internally I have always believed these things about myself. Some of these beliefs are so entrenched in my own self thought, that I did not even realize I felt this way. It just was.

Over the last 4 months, I have begun to recognize these deeply rooted beliefs–and I have begun to challenge them. One day, months ago, I was able to sit back and realize that I don’t have to do this alone.

Alone. So many of my anxieties and so much of my sadness has stemmed from my feelings of loneliness. Am I really alone? No…I have a great group of new friends–friends who have continued to love me, and know me, even more through my period of need.

So, why have I felt alone? Simply said, I fear abandonment. When I have a fear of other people leaving me–because, historically, this has happened a few too many times, physically and emotionally–I do not allow myself to open up. I do not allow myself to be ME. Because, let’s face it…when I was being me, it did not stop people from hurting me, or leaving me. As a child and a teenager, I learned (incorrectly), that me was not enough.

Being ME did not make my father stay or try to love me. Being ME did not mean that I fit in to my family, when I so desperately needed to be loved unconditionally. Being ME did not mean that I made friends easily.

No, I learned early on, that being me was not safe. I needed to act strong, act perfect, paste a smile on myself and hold my head up high. I also needed to work my ass off to become a better version of myself. (Ironically, this need for perfectionism made me even less like my family, making me feel more ostracized at times. “Where did this smart girl come from? She must think she is better than us…”).

No…Being me is too vulnerable.

The thing is…I would never want my children to ever, ever, EVER, hold these beliefs about themselves.

Ever.

So, that made me question–why is it okay to believe these things about MYself? Why was it okay for me, at the age of six, to believe that I could not ask for help or share something that happened to me? Why should I have lived with the blame of something terrible, something that I would never ask any six year old, ANYWHERE, to hold?

I wouldn’t.

I have started the hard process of re-processing my beliefs:


 I am not perfect. I am ENOUGH.

I am whiny. dramatic. high maintenance.  I need support and that is okay.

I am not worthy of being loved or liked, just for me.

Who I am is valuable, those who are worthy of my love will see this.

If I don’t make another person happy, that person will leave me.

It is not my responsibility to make others happy–I need to learn to make myself happy.


Every day, when I am alone in my own head, it is a battle. I am an overthinker, and I have to work, daily, to lock up the negative thoughts that swirl around and make me question things about myself, my relationships, my happiness. But, I am a work in progress (not perfection!).

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