Emotionally, even worse.
The purpose of this journal is to have a place to chronicle my journey to happiness. I'm not happy with myself. I'm a very lonely person with deep, painful wounds.
While I think it's important for me to walk this path to self-acceptance and self-love by myself, I do have support waiting in the wings. Mr. Adams has been a great influence and mentor. When I get stuck, he helps me find another solution. He challenges my deeply seeded thoughts and asks me to look at situations from different perspectives. He may never know the impact he's had on my life in the short time I've known him, but he has saved my life more than once. And for that, I will be forever grateful.
My thoughts this evening have stirred up some childhood memories. Specifically, baton lessons.
When I was 7-years old, my mother signed me up for baton lessons. I liked twirling that thin metal stick around and making it spin in the light. We learned routines and would occasionally perform in parades in our hometown. Our uniforms were pink leotards with white silk skirts and vests, white cowboy boots with pink poms. I loved how the silk felt and the fringe on the skirt tickled my legs. Even though I was a shy child, I enjoyed baton.
While driving one afternoon, Mom and I were talking about baton practice. Mom told me that I needed to learn how to hold my stomach in, especially when I wore my uniform. I was 7-years old. I had no idea how to hold my stomach in, but I knew what the underlining message was: Mom was telling me I looked fat.
I was always a chubby kid. I was 10 pounds when I was born! I was always the biggest kid in my class and I guess, along with the teasing from my classmates and my mom's passive aggressive comments, I never felt accepted.
Now in my 30's, I am scared about my weight yet I never do anything to change my habits. I was wondering about this when my thoughts turned to that day driving in the car with Mom. The words never spoken resonated loudly through my mind. My mother was ashamed of how her 7-year old daughter looked in a pink leotard.
My mother grew up without a mother and was bounced around between relatives and foster homes. She never had a consistent, loving mother-figure, so I can hardly blame her for how she raised me. I believe she did the best she could. That doesn't mean, however, that she raised me well.
Unconditional love and empathy were not seen in my childhood home. And now, as an adult, I am struggling to find my self-worth. I often feel like nothing I do is good enough, although I don't know who's standards I'm trying to live up to. I always seem to add a footnote to my statements.
- I got into law school on a tuition-free scholarship.* (*But anyone can do that.)
- I can draw well.* (*But there are a lot of people who draw better.)
- I am a good writer.* (*But isn't everyone?)
Hard to do? Hell yes. If it was easy, I'd have done it years ago.
Will I fall? Of course. But that's when I get up, dust myself off, and keep moving forward.
Does it require change? It has to. I have to change the way I think about myself. And for this, I will need help. That's where Mr. Adams comes in.
Nothing in life worth having is easily obtained. None of us have a perfect life, and at the end of this journey my life still won't be perfect. Perfection is not my goal, however. I just want to live and enjoy my life. Self-love and happiness is my goal.
And so the journey begins. This entry is the first step.
*Nate is my negative inner voice. I'll introduce his opposite, Patty, in another entry.
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