Something a little different

This blog post is a little different. 

Initially this was going to be a post sharing my “dirty” side.

No I’m not talking about that gutter mind you may have just went to. I truly mean the utter disgust when your anxiety is at an all time high. You’ve started and stopped several household chores because in the midst of starting one, you find five other tasks that need to be done. While I don’t have ADD/ADHD, I imagine this is what those who do feel like. Eventually everything becomes overwhelming and you don’t know where to begin so you just give up and the house is in such a disarray that your already all time high anxiety is now in the fluster f*ck realm of high, where you hyperventilate at the thought of even trying to go back to task one and you don’t know where to begin so you do nothing.

I was going to share a photo of the current state of the hallway in my upstairs hallway where our linen closet is and in front of our laundry “room”. Which honestly is more like a nook than a room but I digress. I was going to write about how I want this space of the internet to be a judgement free zone, blah blah blah blah. While that still rings true, I had therapy today, which was skin crawling uncomfortable. I hate those types of sessions. Where you feel you need to say something but have nothing to say, so you just stare awkwardly at each other until someone speaks. No thank you

But because of that, now I guess I just want to be a little more raw than surface level bullshit that we all see on social media. How well will I be with this? Probably absolutely fucking terrible because vulnerability is the biggest fault of mine. 

Ok so here we go. Bear with me because deflection is my biggest habit and a squirrely mind is definitely bound to happen.

In my session today we started off with trying to reflect and look back on the homework I was supposed to do. Which I did, but in my own kicking and screaming petulant child fashion. The homework? Write one positive and grateful thing three times each week until I see my therapist again. For context, this meant I only needed to come up with six days worth of things since I see them every two weeks. Not too hard right? Hahahah wrong! So wrong. You’d think it’s easy until you, someone who hates having the spotlight on her, I know the irony given I’m a writer and author, has to write about yourself. So of course I went to my default number one, sarcasm. Default number two? The surface level shit that didn’t require me to dig deep and I found it hilarious to share. I mean I’m doing the homework right? Maybe it’s not exactly what I’m supposed to be doing, but in my interpretation I’ve found one positive thing and one grateful moment. 

If you followed me these last two weeks on my socials, you would have seen me share these in my stories thinking they are totally relatable and hilarious. Only for me to take them down hours later out of embarrassment and “wtf was I thinking” moments. For the sake of this post though, here is an example of my brattiness shining bright as the petulant child I intended to be.

I am not proud of this moment looking back on it. I’m actually really sad for this version of me and also disappointed in her. I read this and wish I would have just not said anything at all because what good did this do? Sure I met the requirements but did I really though? The point of the assignment is to build self-esteem, something I severely lack. It’s also meant to silence the negative self-talk, which I guess could be coupled under the self-esteem portion of why I was tasked with this.

Pause. Quick side note going back to me taking examples like this off my stories/social media accounts. I didn’t just take them down out of pure embarrassment and wonder wtf I was thinking. I also took them down out of sheer fear of judgement. Well that and I wasn’t getting the feedback I thought I would so then I immediately began fearing what others were thinking of me and saying to those they know or even others in the same community circles as I. And honestly that’s truly the crux of all of this.

Judgement.

None of us want to be judged. It’s a fear I’m sure we can all relate too. So please know with my next statements I’m not attempting to discredit any of that.

When you grow up with a suspected narcissistic mother as your caretaker. Someone who isolates you from the rest of your family just enough so people don’t entirely question the state of your welfare, but you also feel as if no one cares and you have no one to turn to, judgement tends to become something you tend to fear. At least for me. Especially when our outward appearances needed to represent my mothers ideals of status she wished we had and sought incredibly hard for others to believe we had.

From what I wore out, to the state of the friend group I had, down to being sexually assaulted at work and how that would make her look, instead of what that did to me and her subsequent actions which would further instill that I was on my own with no one to protect me. Judgement was very much the thing I attempted to avoid. 

I strove to hear a sliver of good from my mother. Which trust me I think I’m still waiting on and I’m thirty-four. Not to say she hasn’t said any good, but the good in which she accepts me, is proud of me, etc. The good in which tells me I’m good enough. That I’ve finally met the mark when it comes to being the perfect daughter and child. Again I digress. That is an entry for another time. Maybe for an entire book or four 😉

It’s the fear of what others will say, do, or think that prompts me to chameleon myself into whatever fits the situation. Now as humans we already do this to an extent. However, I personally do this to fit into all situations. Which is why when my therapist sits on screen and says nothing while my skin is crawling, I blurt out the most random things just so I don’t have to be uncomfortable anymore. So I can quiet my mind and stop worrying about what he is thinking or judging me for. 

On the same note when I start therapy, I’m watching my p’s and q’s. Mindful of everything I say or do. Afraid of the context it’ll be taken in. Wondering if he is diagnosing me with more things than I might not actually have. Sometimes wondering, if it’s I am who is the narcissist and not my mother. Which just writing that sentence alone makes me worry for those who are reading this post. 

Specifically, what you all must think of me for considering that I may be the narcissist and yet I’m supposed to be the writer, the advocate for mental health, the author who provides a safe space to land. As I say “A home in every story”. How can I be a safe space, for others, and my books a home, for readers, if I can’t be trusted? I mean really who would trust someone that thinks their therapist may diagnose them with narcissism, even though it’s never been mentioned. 

Ahh yes. See that rabbit hole has begun and here I will be for about the next three hours, or until my meds finally kick in for the depression and anxiety and force me to fall asleep. Regardless, you get the picture. Or I hope you do. At every turn I worry about the judgement of others because of past experiences and traumas. I want to get better. I want to be better. I want to have a better outlook. Have value within and confidence however to me that comes at a cost of getting hurt and being dependent on someone else to be there to catch me or have my back. Both of which I too want but cannot trust that someone will.

It’s all an interwoven system of fuckary really. In order to have what I want, I have to drop barriers and have blind faith/trust in things that now as learned behaviors I cannot have blind faith/trust in. Therefore we continue going round and round on the hamster wheel. The wheel being the constant thoughts of what I think people are saying about me but not to me or thinking about me but not speaking and I as the hamster trying to constantly stay ahead of them. Present a picture that was ingrained into me to present for as long as I can remember.

Yet all of that pisses me off at the same time because I could give two fucks about someones status. About someone's religious beliefs. The color of their skin, etc. As long as you are a good person. A good human, as I tell my kids. That’s what matters the most to me but don’t dare look to close at me and my imperfections. 

I guess in this ramble what I’m trying to say or show, is I too fear the hurt that being vulnerable and allowing others to potentially judge me can cause. As my therapist would point out though, I cannot gain all that I desire from therapy if I continue to run on the hamster wheel in which I am striving for something that doesn’t exist….

Perfection.