For Lent this year, I decided to work towards better self-esteem. I though I may as well because my therapist told me I'm no longer allowed to think I'm bad once spring break was over. Head start and all. Anyway, I've found that it's more of an uphill battle than I realized. I began to notice the intricate ways my mind punishes me into thinking I'm bad. When I'm feeling genuine happiness, my mind will lead me to an embarrassing memory, one where I usually make a faux pas, or I just look like an idiot. My happiness is killed in an instant and I can't remember why I felt good about myself. Mission accomplished, I guess.
My mind takes criticism personally as well. I can't help but feel disappointed when my professor in creative non-fiction tells me my craft needs work. Or that Susie Suchandsuch was the best student she ever had. "You're not good enough," my self-critic tells me. It doesn't like it when I write. It has no problem pulling out all the stops. "You're never going to be good enough. This whole idea is a joke. Why do you even think you should write?" My self-critic says similar things when I think about my abuse. It tells me to shut up. I'm worthless. No one will believe me. No one will care. I reminds me of all the shaming memories I can't seem to erase. All the times I told someone. All the times I didn't understand, couldn't understand what my abuse meant. It wants to stop me. Keep me from telling my story. It will stop at nothing to beat my self-worth into submission and so that I will shut the hell up. To be silent. My crime, the crime done against me, is unspeakable.
But I won't let it win.
My name is Ariel Smith and I'm a survivor of sexual abuse. Let's talk about it.
Welcome to my blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment