Love Letter to the Worthless

Dear Sir or Madame,

You are a sir and you are a madame. You are a dignified person. I don't want to call you worthless because that is not what you are.

But you think you are and that is why I titled this post 'A Love Letter to the Worthless'.

I needed to get your attention. I hope I hold it.

I have thought myself worthless many times.

Thinking about my supposed worthlessness tonight is what prompted me to punch these words on my keyboard and post them into cyberspace.

We are told, by someone, at a young age that we are not good enough. Years later we can scarcely remember why we were supposedly not good enough. Yet we still think we are worthless.

We drink or smoke ourselves to new worlds. Because we hate our world for not being better. We hate ourselves for not being stronger. We want to feel okay and that intoxicants are often the only way we feel okay.

Or we drive ourselves mad with work. We throw ourselves completely into the pursuit or money and fame. We tell ourselves we can never be enough.

We are enough. We have always been enough. We were enough as children before someone told us we were not enough.

I'm not here to give you a psychological cure for your sense of insecurity. You like me have probably already googled your eyes red night after night searching for self-help articles.

All I want to say is this. You are more than enough. You are beautiful.

You won't believe it and I won't blame you for it. I don't believe it as often as I should either. Yet it's the truth.

You -man, woman, teenager, child, elder- you're not what the shade that infects your head says. You are not. You don't have to be.

Beauty is in you. Greatness is in you. You are a living, breathing, loving, caring passionate human. You are thrust into a world that wants beauty to die for the sake of conformity.

Don't die. Don't die. Don't let your beauty die.

You don't deserve it. You don't deserve it.

You dear one are beautiful. You are extravagant. 

Much Love,
A Fellow Sojourner 

Everyone's a Failure...and That's Okay

 These are some of my recent failures

1) A short story was rejected from a publishing magazine. (15th rejection in two months)

2) An activity in a lesson I taught didn't go well like I planned. 

3) I was turned down for a lucrative student coordinator position at a university.

4) An assignment I turned in for my certification program wasn't up to scratch and I had to redo it...for the third time.

5) I was turned down for a date. 

 

 

I've enjoyed other failures in my life as well. 

 

6) I've failed to get a book published. 

7) I've failed to stay in a long term relationship.

8) I've failed at exercising everyday.

9) I've failed at reading at least one book a month.

10) I've failed to be kind, non-judgmental and considerate in every social interaction with every person. 

 

 

I am a failure. I have been a failure. I will continue to be a failure. I will lose and I will lose badly. I will have my ego and self-esteem maimed by own shortsightedness and laziness.

I will have dreams crushed under my souls as I try to stumble my way into finding them. 

 

I will never succeed in all things I want to do. Even if I had a thousand years to achieve everything I wanted, I think I would still fall short on certain things. 

 

Failure, is the essence of my life...and the same is true for you. 

 

Even if you've never enjoyed those ten failures I listed, you've failed in your own special ways. 

 

Like me, you've probably been hurt by some failures more than others. Some of these failures have kept you up at night or reduced you to tears...or both. 

 

Like me, you've wasted a lot of time abusing yourself over roads you took and others you didn't take. 

 

Like me, you've probably kicked yourself again when you consciously fail to implement the advice about failure you read in every feel-good article or blogpost. You know the one that usually goes along the lines of...

Yes, dear friends, we are failures; unequivocal failures. Yet I don't want to end with the same platitudes about how 'true failure is giving up' or 'if at first you don't succeed try, try, try again'.

There's nothing wrong of either of those sentiments. 

 

It's just that you and I have heard them far too many times before. I'm not sure at this point hearing those mantras again benefits anyone.

 

What I don't think we hear or read as often though is this: 

 

Failure is normal and it doesn't have to be our enemy.

There will never be a time when you or I will not have to deal with failure. We will never know a period of our lives where we are not falling short in some way. 

 

We may succeed at some things, we may make many dreams come true after years of enduring doldrums and false starts. Yet with each success will come new challenges and we will fail at some of them.

Failure will always be with us. Yet that is okay because failure in the end is not an enemy unless we make him one. Failure can be our greatest friend.

 

He's the personal trainer who yells at us during the race but takes the time to point out how we can run better next time. 

 

He's the teacher who checks our work everyday to make sure that we are spelling our sentences correctly. 

 

He's the drill sergeant who breaks you down day after day to your very core so that you can rise again stronger.

You may never be able to love him but I think we can all learn to respect him. So the next time you fail don't hurt yourself or try and attack Mr. Failure for doing his job. Instead reach out with an open palm and give him a firm, professional handshake and a smile. He's been with your first day and he'll be with you to your last and he's the strongest ally you will ever have. 

The Captive Inside Me- Self-Hatred and Self-Love

Self-Loathing by Princess-Hanners

 

I've thought of my self-hatred/depression in many different ways over the years. 

 

I've envisioned it as a cloud, a rain storm, a sadistic woman with white hair and a wide smile. I had a nightmare once where it manifested as a mental asylum with deformed inmates shackled to walls. I watched myself in the dream, as if from a CCTV camera, pounding on a door to the institution with my fists. All the while I screamed 'Why won't you let me leave!' 

 

Yet until a few weeks ago I had never thought of it as a victim. An enemy? yes; a terrible force of nature? For sure. 

 

But I had never tried to truly humanize the struggle inside me not until I tried to emerge from my longest and darkest bout in many years. 

In mid May, I got back to Kansas City after spending a few weeks on the road. I saw family in Ohio and reconnected with a number of friends in DC. While traveling I released my first self-published book on Amazon and by the time I got home, over thirty people had bought copies. 

 

The trip and the sales made me feel great but within the first week of being back familiar feelings of anger and self-deprecation appeared. 

An onslaught of negativity began inside me. It was so relentless that for days I was unable to leave my bed for very long. 

 

I stayed up late until the night unable to find respite from the voice that once again tried to strangle me from the inside. 

 

For almost every minute, of every day for four weeks I was in the grip of thoughts like these:

'You don't matter! Nothing you've ever done has mattered!' 

 

'You're worthless!' 

 

'You've wasted your life!' 

 

'You've done nothing important!' 

 

'You should have killed yourself years ago!' 

 

'You have no talent!' 

 

'Everyone is better than you and they always have been!' 

 

'You are a sack of shit! You should set yourself on fire!'

 

'No one can love you!'

 

And on, and on, and on it went. 

 

Eventually, I reached out to the wider world. The kind words of friends near and far gave me space to breathe. While I still suffered daily I had room enough inside my head to truly think and address my demon.

 

I started to take steps to strengthen myself. I downloaded a book on depression and anxiety. I started exercising again and taking my Zoloft regularly. I poured over articles about self-hatred and depression. I read and reread blog-posts, psych articles and Tiny Buddha entries hoping that I could find something that could bring me out of the dark.  

 

I discovered helpful information and testimonials. 

 

None were silver bullets but it was in the midst of scouring this information that I came to see my battered soul and the destructive voice of self-hatred in a new way. 

It came to me late one night after reading an article that talked about how hateful inner voices often say things to us that we would never dream of saying to others. Often, we treat ourselves worse than we treat those around us. 

 

I thought: What if I gave a human shape to my beleaguered soul? 

 

My imagination kicked in. I gave my inner self hair, eyes, ears, a nose, a mouth and a bruised and cut body. I saw my battered, injured soul as a person. A tortured individual who had been locked away and attacked for years within me.  

 

In my imagination, I saw myself walk to this poor man's cell, unlock his door unfasten his shackles and embrace him. 

 

'I'm sorry,' I told him. 'I should have come for you sooner.' 

 

I now had a face and a body for my pain and I had a new way of seeing what had been going on within me for years. 

 

Now, when I feel a surge of negative emotions coming on I turn to the nearest empty chair or space and visualize my hurt self in that emptiness. In my mind, I ask if he is alright and if he needs anything. I treat him as a friend in need. 

 

I've been coping better with self-hatred by envisioning my inner self as a beaten and maimed person who needs to be nurtured and healed. 

 

I've also come to see the part that hates me as another tragic figure. 

 

An enemy? Perhaps, but a wounded enemy acting out of uncertainty, doubt and lack of confidence. I am wary of him but I do not hate him. I can't allow myself too. 

 

He is me. I am him. In my experience, hating ones own self-hatred does nothing but empower it. 

 

Sometimes, when I hear him attacking my long suffering self, I tell him firmly to stop. I explain to him that he has no place here and tell him that while I am obliged to stop him I won't allow myself to despise him as I used to. 

 

This is usually enough for him to leave us alone and he departs with his head hung low. 

 

Since I've adopted this approach, my world has become considerably brighter. My wounded soul is bruised still but his cuts have closed. He's scarred but he smiles more and the hateful self has not been able to shackle him again. 

 

I have no doubt the darkness will come again but the next time he decides to try and dig his claws in I won't be alone and my soul will be more prepared to endure. 

 

If you read this, and you feel that you are in a similar struggle I hope my words provide insight and comfort. You may not believe it now, but you are not alone. There are many, many others who experience your pain and there is will inside you to live and thrive.

 

Get help, talk to someone call a hotline. There is a way to pull out the black claws from your heart. 

 

There is a way to heal. 

 

Deep down there is precious jewel inside you. It may be caked in the filth of self-loathing and self-doubt but it is hard and glimmers waiting for you to dig it out.