I am…

I am a bully… to myself. I have a keen knack for beating the shit out of myself when I’ve fucked up. When said “fuck up” happens, I metaphorically pull a shit show version of myself out, throw her on the floor, and repeatedly inflict pain through allegorical punches to my self-esteem and parabolic kicks to my self-worth.

This internal brawl also includes crippling and untrue thoughts brought to life through an introduction of two influential words… “I am”.

And then…

the “I am” pity party kicks off

Before you know it, these three- to four-word constructs grow to…

I am disgusting, and I hate who I’ve become.
I am simply existing, scared of not ever feeling alive and staying stuck on autopilot.
I am suicidal, wanting to throw in the towel, exhausted from all the suffering underneath this freckled skin.
I am a loser – I’ve not done enough in life – what have I really accomplished up to this point? How could anyone love me?

These powerful and paralyzing fabrications steep the ‘I am’ tea and I become stifled, incoherent, frozen and unable to escape.

And then…

I lay there, sulking, feeling helpless and struggling with my self-worth and without recovery or healing, I scooch back to my martyr – exhausted, and with minimal to no self-respect along with a tarnished eminence – remember, I just kicked the shit out of that?!

I know, I know, I know… I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but from time to time, I do. It’s real and it’s true… to me. And although I participate in the self-improvement march by reading all the right books and having all the right conversations with all the right people, I can’t completely liberate myself from the ominous thoughts in my head.

Look, people fuck up in life, we’re humans – it’s in our DNA to make mistakes… perfection is not attainable. And, that’s my problem. I am a perfectionist. It steps in the way of my growth and frankly plays a key role in my self-esteem, or lack thereof.

Yet, I have such a vice-grip hold on wanting to attain perfection that I struggle on a daily basis to free myself from this bridled way of life. It’s a goddamn nightmare, a Freddy Kruger of negative “I am” affirmations.

“I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them have never happened.”

Mark Twain

So, here it is, my therapy, discussing my flaws and bringing to light that I have to heal from this incessant need to pull myself apart, limb from limb, crushing my self-worth, dignity and character all based around life’s mistakes and the heavy burden of societal standards.

Now, please know that I understand that there are levels of “mistakes”, such as, murder, for example. That’s pretty high-level. The jacked-up part? I place that high-level criticism on all mistakes, both grandiose, minute and everything in between – I feel I deserve punishment for ALL my wrong-doings. This is the depravity of perfectionism in all its impeccable glory.

So, how do I get myself to a place where the negative ‘I am’ affirmations find their distance (and frequency) from my mind? Hell, is it even possible? Not sure. But I’ll honor and stay curious about these feelings. So maybe, just maybe, the inquisitiveness chokes the momentum and its negativity becomes scarce in this spec of a world I occupy. Only time and many more of these experiences will tell.

But fortunately, I do see glimpses of reason and logic subtly hiding, malingering in a dark corner of my mind. I call out to it with welcoming persuasion, anxiously waiting for it to step into the light. Slowly, the words begin to formulate a healthier (well sort of healthier) look into my psyche.

And then…

the energy begins to shift

I am making my way through life, sometimes with eyes wide open, looking forward and residing in the present; while sometimes my eyes are closed tight, engrossed in the darkness of my past. Other times, I am only barely focusing with one eye open, toggling between the future, present and past. Constantly refocusing, blinking from left to right and right to left. But I remain focused on some level in both the darkness and in light.

I am stubborn, sometimes to a fault and other times with a perseverance that ignites my soul. But I stay the course (as best as I can) enduring the storms and remaining intoxicated by the current.

I am full of pain, yet I am full of joy, peace and comfort. But I embrace all senses and receptivity of both the agony and the bliss.

I am full of rage, full of passion and sometimes not knowing the difference, yet engaging with the fire… full on, and also with considerable hesitation. Maybe I’ll get burned, or maybe I’ll find the warmth and that luminous glow. But, I will learn, grow and experience life at full capacity, mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake.

I am a procrastinator. This idleness creates a wealth of anxiety, yet sometimes it creates a wealth of creativity. Either way, it creates a wealth of awareness, enlightenment and puts a full court press on my stamina, but all in way of evolutionary growth.

I am a good mother on some days, and I am a bad mother on other days – an encased jumble of mistakes, growth, setbacks, failures and accomplishments. A fuck up waiting to happen. But it’s okay… I am a mother.

And then…

truth and acceptance prevail

Hallelujah!

This is progress, and although I may be out of focus from time to time and traveling at a snail’s pace, I am covering ground, and keeping self-awareness as a focal point. Slowly. Surely.

One. Small. Step. At. A. Time.

And then…

I am just fine… until the next time. 😉

Peace.