Day One of 30 Days of Truth starts out with this heavy prompt. “Something You Hate About Yourself”. Man! They don’t beat around the bush with these questions, do they?
The things I hate about myself have changed so much over the years.
As a child, what I hated about myself was influenced so much by the abuse in my home. I hated that I wasn’t quiet enough to be the ‘seen and not heard’ type of child. I hated that I wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s favorite, or even on the ‘like’ list. I hated that I wasn’t stronger than to cry and show pain when the abuse was inflicted. I hated that no one thought enough of me to save me from the pain.
As a teenager, I hated that I wasn’t skinny enough, pretty enough, funny enough, smart enough or nice enough to garner the attention I sought. I hated my insecurities around others, and hated the fact that no matter what, I could never make myself seem like I belonged. Regardless of where I was, I felt out of place.
As a young adult, I hated myself for the abuse I inflicted on myself when I was younger by stuffing myself full of alcohol and drugs to numb the constant pain. I hated myself for not finishing school, falling in love with someone who could never grow up, and having a child that had to suffer because I wasn’t ever, in my mind, good enough to be a Mother to.
Now, in my 30’s, I hate that I have become so un-trusting of others. Unable to trust myself. I hate that I let the abuse from my past shape the type of person I have become. Once we were no longer in that situation, I took up the abuse where he left off. I became bitter, angry at any and everyone. But, most of all, towards myself. I have continued to suffer, years later. I hate that I gave anyone that amount of power, when I had a choice. I have pushed the good people away, and invited the bad in. On the outside I was strong, didn’t need anyone, didn’t have feelings, could care less what anyone thought. On the inside I was numb, turned off, guards up, ready for the next blow. So many years went by that I could have done more, gave more, loved more, laughed more. And I hate that I let myself tune out, turn away, and hide.
I would have to say, though, that the thing I hate the most is that I have wasted years hating great big parts of myself, and not realizing how great of a soul I truly am, how brave and loving I am. How good of a Mother I have been, in spite of what I kept telling myself. How lucky I am that I get to wake up every morning and can take a breath, look around at my world and just be happy to have the chance that I never thought that I would be allowed to have.
But I’m going to do my best to not spend one more second taking that for granted. No more hate. I think it’s time to turn the tape off, stop the abuse, and live the way I was meant to live. I finally realize how worth it it is. How worth it I am. How can you hate that?