"He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away." ~Raymond Hull
I am changing my approach to blogging. This time instead of just writing about miscellaneous observations and worrying what others may think about my writing, I am going to start writing about my life. I am going to start writing about me. This is NOT going to be easy for me. I am extremely insecure with who I am, I am overly anxious about what other people think about me and so I wear many different hats to accommodate everyone and I hide who I really am because I am afraid. I am afraid that if people find out who I really am then I will be alone, without anyone, and that scares me so much. I have had the same reoccurring nightmare since I can remember... I am alone, screaming out for someone to help me and no one can hear me, no one is there. My heart is beating wildly already over analyzing every thought, every word, every sentence...but I want to try. I want to use this blog for a different purpose. I want to use it to help me help myself. My blog is still dedicated to my boyfriend, Davis, who throughout the -- years of my life is the first person that has ever made me feel special, beautiful, important... but instead of using this blog as a tool to learn to write again, I am using it for me. (By-the-way don't anyone dare mention my real age...I've developed a horrible phobia of how old I am and how time is running out for me to get all there is to get out of life. So, at -- I've already started lying about my age) Let's start with who I am...
I am a daughter.
I am girlfriend.
I am a sister.
I am a friend.
I am caregiver.
Those are easy. Those are without effort. Those are titles that I are given to me because of the roles I play.
I am compassionate.
I am considerate.
I care.
I do for others first.
I help.
I give.
I am good.
I am happy.
I am fun.
Those are things I try to show to the world. Those are things I try to convince myself of when I look in the mirror. I constantly battle the overwhelming thoughts of who I really am against who I think I am. I do things everyday to make people believe that I am all those things. Part of my job is to help people with information. I work with a girl who has special needs. I do not do certain things because I fear they would upset or hurt my parents. I do things for other people because they ask me to. Yet, sometimes reality gets the best of me and I find myself laying in my bed just staring out the window not having the strength to move with tears falling so hard rivers begin to form on my cheeks because the reality of who I really am is too much to bear and I cannot face myself.
I say mean things about others.
I am resentful.
I expect something in return.
I want.
I lie.
I am unhappy.
That list was very difficult for me to write down and I know there are more things about me that one would find disgusting about a person. Those things are hard enough to say out loud and my head can't take any more thinking about who I am. I try so hard not to be those things. I fight them constantly, but it is exhausting and I want to end the fight. It is too hard sometimes and it is overwhelming. I actively try NOT to be those things and even when I think I have finally buried those ugly descriptions of myself and am becoming the person I want to be they always find their way back to my thoughts. My mind never wants to stop reminding me of decisions I have made, things I have said, people I have hurt and pain I feel because of the person I really must be and again I find myself praying for the courage to rid this world of a person like me. My brain acts against me, it doesn't let me forget the mistakes I've made or the nasty things I've done. No matter what I do in my life that is good there is always a reminder of what I have done that was bad and then I question the whole reason why I did something good in the first place. Was it to make myself feel better? Was it to justify something I did to hurt someone else? There are times when it makes me mad to hear someone give me a compliment. It makes me angry that they would say something nice about someone so horrible. I don't deserve it and I don't want to hear someone tell me something good about myself, because I can't even think of something good about myself. There are days when I'm so ashamed of my reflection that I don't even put on make-up because I don't want to look at my face.
It is so hard. I hurt so much, so often and feel so alone. I want to be that person I show to the world...so bad, so very, very bad. I try. I try so hard. I am exhausted. Always exhausted.
...then the mania comes.
I am changing my approach to blogging. This time instead of just writing about miscellaneous observations and worrying what others may think about my writing, I am going to start writing about my life. I am going to start writing about me. This is NOT going to be easy for me. I am extremely insecure with who I am, I am overly anxious about what other people think about me and so I wear many different hats to accommodate everyone and I hide who I really am because I am afraid. I am afraid that if people find out who I really am then I will be alone, without anyone, and that scares me so much. I have had the same reoccurring nightmare since I can remember... I am alone, screaming out for someone to help me and no one can hear me, no one is there. My heart is beating wildly already over analyzing every thought, every word, every sentence...but I want to try. I want to use this blog for a different purpose. I want to use it to help me help myself. My blog is still dedicated to my boyfriend, Davis, who throughout the -- years of my life is the first person that has ever made me feel special, beautiful, important... but instead of using this blog as a tool to learn to write again, I am using it for me. (By-the-way don't anyone dare mention my real age...I've developed a horrible phobia of how old I am and how time is running out for me to get all there is to get out of life. So, at -- I've already started lying about my age) Let's start with who I am...
I am a daughter.
I am girlfriend.
I am a sister.
I am a friend.
I am caregiver.
Those are easy. Those are without effort. Those are titles that I are given to me because of the roles I play.
I am compassionate.
I am considerate.
I care.
I do for others first.
I help.
I give.
I am good.
I am happy.
I am fun.
Those are things I try to show to the world. Those are things I try to convince myself of when I look in the mirror. I constantly battle the overwhelming thoughts of who I really am against who I think I am. I do things everyday to make people believe that I am all those things. Part of my job is to help people with information. I work with a girl who has special needs. I do not do certain things because I fear they would upset or hurt my parents. I do things for other people because they ask me to. Yet, sometimes reality gets the best of me and I find myself laying in my bed just staring out the window not having the strength to move with tears falling so hard rivers begin to form on my cheeks because the reality of who I really am is too much to bear and I cannot face myself.
I say mean things about others.
I am resentful.
I expect something in return.
I want.
I lie.
I am unhappy.
That list was very difficult for me to write down and I know there are more things about me that one would find disgusting about a person. Those things are hard enough to say out loud and my head can't take any more thinking about who I am. I try so hard not to be those things. I fight them constantly, but it is exhausting and I want to end the fight. It is too hard sometimes and it is overwhelming. I actively try NOT to be those things and even when I think I have finally buried those ugly descriptions of myself and am becoming the person I want to be they always find their way back to my thoughts. My mind never wants to stop reminding me of decisions I have made, things I have said, people I have hurt and pain I feel because of the person I really must be and again I find myself praying for the courage to rid this world of a person like me. My brain acts against me, it doesn't let me forget the mistakes I've made or the nasty things I've done. No matter what I do in my life that is good there is always a reminder of what I have done that was bad and then I question the whole reason why I did something good in the first place. Was it to make myself feel better? Was it to justify something I did to hurt someone else? There are times when it makes me mad to hear someone give me a compliment. It makes me angry that they would say something nice about someone so horrible. I don't deserve it and I don't want to hear someone tell me something good about myself, because I can't even think of something good about myself. There are days when I'm so ashamed of my reflection that I don't even put on make-up because I don't want to look at my face.
It is so hard. I hurt so much, so often and feel so alone. I want to be that person I show to the world...so bad, so very, very bad. I try. I try so hard. I am exhausted. Always exhausted.
...then the mania comes.
3 comments:
Megan, what you are is wonderful. Thank you for all you have shared with me and for your unfallable way of validating my feelings. I am excited to help you in this journey, and so damn pride.
and intoxicated slightly. replace "pride" with "proud".
Megan, it is really great to reconnect with you, and to read what an amazingly reflective person you have become. I look forward to reading more of your blogs..you are a really good writer..and I think you are an amazing person! I have the same problem, I get mad when I get a compliment because I know my inside and it isn't pretty. Anyway, I just wanted to finally make a comment and let you know I'm here! (that sounded kinda creepy)
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