“The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change. ” ~ Carl Rogers
I have only one problem with this affirmation. I cannot accept myself. I don’t think I have ever been able to. There is always something wrong, something bad, something not quite good enough. And as much as I try and try to counteract those feelings, something comes along in my life and knocks me back down to the bottom. I am not strong. I am not resilient. It takes me a LONG time to climb out of the pit. And it is so easy for me to slide back in again. I don’t have a safety net.
And I am falling again.
I used to cut myself. With razors. I have never said this to anyone before, except my (now-ex) psychiatrist. I suppose it is easier to share with people I have never seen before, people who likely only have a passing interest in the saga that is me. I don’t have any horrid scars, I never was a deep cutter, I didn’t do it often. I guess maybe you could say I was just a scratcher. A deeply private one. So private that I never admitted this to ANYONE until I was 27 years old. And I had been doing it for years. Just enough to feel the physical pain, to cover up, deaden the spritual pain. I worked hard to stop doing this.
Now, I have…thoughts. Cutting thoughts. If I cut, just once, maybe I can release some of this agony building up inside me. If I don’t release it, I will explode. I will come apart. I will be undone. And I will not survive.
These thoughts scare the hell out of me. And I just don’t know what to do. I have nowhere to turn. My inner self is darkness. My outer self is becoming a lie. My life around me beyond my children is meaningless. I am reminded every day, when he stays out all night time and time and time again, how I am not wanted where I live, that I am no better than a maid and a babysitter, and that I have to sit and deal with it because I have nowhere else to go.
I am struggling.
I feel like I am losing.