Detox Diaries # 5

     . . .really is something not quite right about me. Imagine if you, dear readers, were virtually invisible to almost everyone your age (especially people of the opposite sex!) and your own mother says the things I wrote about in the last installment of this series all while making you feel defective whenever you needed help or made a mistake. Then imagine that no one else in the family stood up for you, or at least took her down a peg or two . . .You’d probably think that you were the one with the issues. There couldn’t possibly be something up with ALL the people treating you like some sort of weirdo . . .right?
But anyways, for me, all of this nonsense going on was fertile ground for all of the most poisonous, soul-killing beliefs I’ve ever had about myself.
That I was somehow flawed beyond all comprehension and belief. I just wasn’t good enough. I still kick myself over all that time and energy I wasted trying to find acceptance from the wrong people.
That I’d probably never be able to do anything right. In some twisted way, I still believe this. It’s why I still have this compulsive need to hide everything I do, everything I think and feel, all that I desire and everything I hope to become. Especially since a certain incident . . .
That I have questionable intellect and sanity. Basically, I’m mentally unstable and possibly stupid. All because I don’t adhere to a certain someone’s way of thought and behavior. And for the longest time, I had absolutely no faith in my own thoughts and ideas. I still have some lingering feelings of reluctance when it comes to expressing them and following them out.
That I would have to seek out people who were just as “weird” as I was because “normal” people would just treat me like my mom had. I really believed that my mom was normal while I was the messed up one.
That I could never be my authentic self. Ever. If I let other people see my “abnormality” they’d just straight up reject me. It’s already happened a few times . . . This is why I still have an intense fear of rejection. A slowly shrinking part of me still holds on to that belief. I still semi-consciously keep people at arm’s length¾never telling them much lest they use what I’ve said against me later. It’s the big one because it drove me to do something that I’ve only started recovering from within the last couple of years. I . . .

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