It’s a tough afternoon around here right now. Insecurities are screaming in my head and I’m really struggling with shutting them down. It gets this way sometimes. It gets this way when I let my head go somewhere it shouldn’t go. In this case, it went down the path of someone in my world could possibly be more than they are now. A few days ago, we had that conversation because it had occurred to him too and in the end, he rejected me on that level. There are always reasons why it’s not because of who I am…I don’t live close enough, he’d never be brave enough to pursue anything, etc.. Heck, someone even told me the other day that they really wanted me sexually but instead they unfriended me on Facebook because I was so far out of their league. I’ve heard that one before. That was the line guys in college told me years later when they confessed to liking me.

The reality …at least my reality… is that I don’t believe any of it. After years of being told I was stupid and nobody would ever want me, that I wasn’t wanted by my own parents, it’s stuck. That’s the voice I hear inside my head with every rejection. I destroy myself by repeating it out loud to myself. You’re stupid. You’re fat. You’re ugly. Nobody is ever going to want you, not even just for any kind of physical relationship that doesn’t involve marriage or anything like that. It’s become a mantra on the days where I’ve done something like this, believed there was a possibility.

You’re stupid. You’re fat. You’re ugly. Nobody will ever want you. Your own family didn’t want you. You’re a nobody. Invisible. Only seen when somebody wants something and then thrown away again. Used. Discarded. Worthless. You’re going to be alone forever. Nobody will ever want you.

Nobody is saying those words to me anymore except for me and on days like today they come faster and faster until it’s like a blur inside my own head. When I was a child, I had a closet that was above our stairs. There were two rows of rods and clothing hanging in it and I would climb up into it and hide. Nobody could find me there (not that they were looking) and I was safe. I miss that closet. I miss having a hiding place where I can curl up until it all stops.

When I lost my hiding spot, I started hurting myself. I’d scratch until I nearly bled. Anything to stop the voices in my head. Anything to distract me from the emotional pain. Did you know that a glass dildo when swung at fleshy parts of the body can leave amazing bruises? I do. I’ve done it. I’ve sat and just hit myself in the same spot over and over again in an attempt to get rid of the emotional anguish. It works, right until you stop swinging and things like pants hide the marks you’ve left. Always hide the marks you’ve left. It’s safer than people asking you questions. If you’re lucky, you’ve worn yourself out enough that you sleep. Sleep can help. It quiets the chemicals in the brain.

Still, here I sit, remembering that not having expectations, not having dreams, not thinking yourself worthy and all sorts of horrible things is sometimes safer than letting yourself have those things because when time and time again you don’t get them or you get rejected, you’re brought right back to this place and while it’s familiar, it will never be comfortable.

I long for the times when I had the self-confidence to truly believe in myself and that things were possible. Not just people things, but me things. There are days when I wake up and I smile and I really believe that I am an amazing person, that I can do the things that I want to do, that I’m not crippled by the contents of my own head. They happen and remembering that gives me small bits of hope on the really bad days. I try to remind myself of just how far I’ve come and that I can’t give up. I may be my own worst enemy but sometimes I have to also be my own biggest supporter. It’s hard. It’s hard to pick yourself back up when you’re the one who knocked you down, but sometimes you’re all you have because you live in a world where people just don’t understand. It’s easy to be sympathetic to someone who has cancer or lost a limb or is somehow physically crippled. It’s not so easy when what’s been destroyed is a piece of your very soul and when due to no fault of your own, your own brain chemistry hates you and tries every chance it gets to cause more harm.

I don’t talk about my life, my world, my struggles with very many people anymore. After opening up completely to two people who in the end not only rejected me but cut me completely from their worlds, I’ve shut down. I’ve hidden away here in my little village. Most people only see the surface, they see what they’re comfortable seeing, and don’t have to see anything more. Now again, I tried opening up to someone and I’ve gotten hurt and another brick goes up but maybe it's progress that it isn't an entire wall.

You’re stupid brilliant. You’re fat unique. You’re ugly beautiful. Nobody will ever want you. Your own family didn’t want you. (They’re idiots.) You’re a nobody princess. Invisible Loved. Only seen (by idiots) when somebody  an idiot wants something and then thrown away again. Used Needed. Discarded Wanted. Worthless Precious. You’re going to be alone here forever for a very long time. Nobody Somebody special will ever want you forever. Don’t give up yet. 



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Once upon a time, I used to write. I wrote stories. I wrote poems. I wrote articles. I was always writing. Then, I stopped. Oh, it wasn't all at once. It was bit by bit. First, the poetry stopped. Then, the stories. My blog posts became fewer and further between. I desperately tried to hold on by keeping my recipes flowing, but even they stopped after a while.

My writing became limited to Facebook posts, occasional tweets, and even more occasional reviews. As my mental health issues grew worse, I found it was easier to give in to the silence. I convinced myself, or maybe the depression convinced me, that I didn't need to write, that I had nothing left to share with the world and if I did, no one was listening. Instead, I took other people's words and I tweaked them. I poured pieces of myself into other people's work. I became an editor. I took pride in my work and when something went to print, it was as if I were still putting a piece of myself out into the world.

That's changing. I find myself frustrated that they're not my words. Recently, a story that I did the editing on went to print and even the author didn't give me public credit for the work that I had done. I knew the publisher wouldn't put my name in the book, but I thought the author would thank me when he thanked others. Except, he didn't. It hurt. I'd never had that happen before. My authors always have made sure that I got credit when it was due.

Now, I find myself wondering if I'm still a writer. Are the words still there inside of me? Can I put them down again and make them sing? Can I find that part of me again that was one that I cherished the most and was the hardest to let go? Or am I destined to just be the tweaker of everyone else's words, silent in my work, an unsung hero in the publishing world? Or worse, will this part of me continue to fade away until it's gone completely?

Or is this the first step?



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When I wrote the other day, I mentioned "people hoarding" in passing towards the end. I'm back here again to write about that because it's been on my mind ever since it came up in conversation with Justin. So, here we go...this isn't going to be pretty, but as always, it's going to be me...

Sometimes in life, you have a light bulb moment and with people who have things like ocd, for them to make progress, that has to happen. Justin and I were talking the other night...okay, he was talking, I was...what's the word..venting? ranting? I was pouring everything out that had been stuck inside my head. One of the things I said was that I don't know why I even keep certain people in my world...and he agreed with me. Neither of us was sure why I kept people around, even those who had been horrible to me. Then, there was the light bulb. I keep people around for the same reason I keep stuff around. It's a security blanket. I'm afraid that if I cut them loose, it means that I've given up on them and I've had people give up on me and know how painful that can be.

It's more than that though. I'm afraid that if I cut them loose, others may leave and soon, I'll be completely alone. Is that rational? Heck no. Is it a pretty typical thought pattern for someone with anxiety and other issues? Heck yes. We worry that we're such a burden that everyone is going to leave..we're just too much work to be friends with, to love.

With any light bulb moment comes a decision. Do I stay in this pattern or do I try to break it? Today, I'm going to work on breaking it. It's going to be hard. It's going to hurt. With each person, I'm going to mourn what we had and that they chose to not have that. I'm going to list those people here, not out of some sense of revenge, but as a reminder to me of what these people did. In a way, it will be me saying goodbye to them...and as I finish each person, I'll be removing them from my social media and other accounts...It's time to move on with those who truly love and care about me.

Zac - Cheated on his girlfriend with me (I had no idea he was with someone). A few years later, our paths crossed again and he talked about having a relationship with me. Instead, he lied to mutual friends about me, tried to create drama, and then when something happened within the group, allowed his girlfriend who didn't know me to threaten my life.

Brian - Became an incredibly close friend, asked me out and then started dating his best friend that I didn't care for. The problem was that he just stopped talking to me and I had to find this out through a mutual friend. I was okay with him dating her but the fact that he refuses to talk to me tells me that our friendship wasn't all that important to him.

Dawn - Yes, as in my mother. The list of things she's done is too long to mention. Let's just say that her latest childish behavior has pushed me to go past avoidance to just plain removing.

Mark - Yes, my father. He's had a lot of years to make an attempt at being part of my life and instead is just on the drama train with the rest of them. No thanks.

Jim - Someone I considered one of my closest friends. So close that I gave him my grandfather's pen set the last time we exchanged Christmas gifts. Then, he got a girlfriend, got a new grasp on religion and suddenly I no longer existed in his world. He stopped responding to all messages, didn't return phone calls and when a mutual friend died didn't even call me...even when I left a sobbing message on his voice mail.

Other Family - There are a few other family members on my friends list on Facebook and there's really no reason for them to be. I have no relationship with them and due to circumstances, have no real desire to.

That's it for now...I know others will come to mind over time and I hope I have the strength to say goodbye and to move on. Just like surrounding myself with trash and stuff isn't good for my physical or mental health, neither is having these beacons of negativity around. They're constant reminders of people who made me feel as if I wasn't good enough. Even though it's hard, it's time to tell myself that I deserve only the best people in my life, not those who would hurt me without a second thought.

I'm not going to lie to any of you and say that this is easy. My anxiety levels are high and there's that little voice saying, "What if these were the best people you could get?" and "What if there's some kind of fallout from this?"  I'm not listening though. I'm hearing, but I'm not listening. I know for a fact that I have some amazing people in my world already so the first is nonsense. As for the second, I'm fairly certain that none of the people listed above will even notice.



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Bonus Fact! This isn't me.

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