By Colleen Ladrick
original caption: Only Me can talk shit about Me
I have always laughed it off as a joke when my therapist suggested that the reason I’m feeling (insert emotion here) about (insert issue here) was rooted in events that happened during my childhood. It dawned on me recently how true that can be.
When we are children the adults in our lives teach us to share, take turns, be polite, and consider how our actions and words affect the tender hearts of others. This is the foundation of a lot of learning: How to interact with people and not be an asshole.
But no one ever taught me how to practice these rules towards myself.
How do I share myself with others?
How do I know when I need to take time for myself?
When I’m overloaded?
How do I talk to myself?
How are my actions and words affecting my own tender heart?
“Good enough for who?
Good enough for what?”
I never understood that I needed to build skills so I could relate to myself in a healthy way. Without those skills, I developed the propensity to compare myself to the social construct of “perfection.” I wanted to be pretty, I wanted to be smart and funny. Desirable and desired, complicated and interesting. I wanted everyone to like me, and if someone didn’t -- it was my fault because I wasn’t good enough.
Good enough for who?
Good enough for what?
I still don’t know. But that voice inside my head seems to. And listening to it for as long as I can remember has kept me in a space where I feel ostracized, alone, and weird. Weird like: “She’s-a-sick-freak-and-no-one-wants-anything-to-do-with-her”-weird.
And I abuse myself. Multiple times a day I descend into an existential dread that always begins with a reminder:
“I’m doing nothing with my life.”
“I’m a lazy piece of trash.”
“I don’t bring anything to the world. I’m just a fat, ugly, waste of space.”
LIKE…HOLY SHIT.
I would NEVER in my life say that to another human being.
Even in situations where another person has hurt me, I still believe in them. I still believe they are a person capable of goodness. I justify their shitty actions by making excuses for their behavior. “Well, they’re going through a hard time, they must be hurting and that’s why they are taking it out on me.” Why then, can’t I do that for myself?
Building a loving relationship towards myself is something I’m in the process of learning. You’d think after eight years of psychotherapy I would have this figured out by now. But I’m proud to be trying. Wrestling with the dichotomy between being kind to myself and thinking I’m a cocky selfish asshole is fun...lol PSYCH jk I feel like I’m losing my damn mind. But I try.
I offer words of kindness, even if I think they’re bullshit. I applaud myself for taking risks and putting myself out there, even when I feel like my heart is a fragile Christmas ornament teetering on the very end of a weak branch. I try to imagine when I’m talking to myself that I am talking to a friend. Would I tell my friend she’s just a dumb bitch with nothing to contribute to the world? OF COURSE I WOULDN’T WHO DO YOU THINK I AM, MOMMY DEAREST? So let it be the same. Treat yourself like your own best friend.
It will take time. It will take patience. That’s okay.
Some days you will feel like shit. That’s okay.
Give yourself the benefit of the doubt, give yourself the kindness you show to others.
Give yourself a chance.
That’s okay.
Colleen is a writer, performer, and person living in Los Angeles. She has a cat and a sense of humour.