I’m very hard on myself. I don’t know why; I think it’s the way I was raised. My parents gave me impossible to reach standards. In their eyes, I haven’t met any of them yet. I probably never will.
So when it comes to myself, I’m just as hard on me as they were… if not harder.
I never really relished in my accomplishments. Instead of being proud of what I did, my parents always had some excuse as to why it was never good enough. Therefore, when left to my own devices, I come up with those same excuses.
I should have done more.
I should have studied harder.
I should have been more stern with myself.
There’s always something that I could have done more. There is always something that I’m never going to get because of my lack of something else.
Either I’m not smart enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough to get where I need to be.
I give myself these bruises from beating myself up all the time over something. There’s always a stress, always a pressure of some sort.
I feel like I need a vacation from myself and from everyone else. I don’t want any judgments or criticism. I just want to relax and breathe.
I want to be okay with my life.
I want to be okay with the way I look.
I want to be okay with everything about me because that is who I am and who will always be.
I want to stop being so hard on myself and start realizing that I’m doing the best I can. I’ve been through a lot and I’m okay. I lived through so many different experiences that I don’t even believe them myself. But I’m still a strong person, I’m still capable of making decisions and knowing what’s right for me.
Why do people think I don’t know what’s right for me? Why do people think I don’t know what I’m doing?
I’ll clue you in to something – you don’t know what you’re doing either.
If you have all of your shit figured out, 100% with no worries or qualms, then I’m sorry, you’re overlooking something.
No one has everything figured out and under control. So you are you to point the finger and me and say that I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.
I’ll tell you what I’m doing with my life: Surviving.
I’m making it through day by day and I’m doing okay. I’m alright. I’m just fine.
But in the end, I’ll give myself bruises, every night and every day telling myself that I’m not good enough and I need to be doing more. Every day, I see someone else and think, “Why can’t I be beautiful like her?” or “Why can’t I be smart like him?” or “Why can’t I be successful like her?”
I am me. I can only do so much. I can’t be anything I’m not.
Mathematics will always be my downfall. I just don’t get it; it doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing I can do about it and trust me, I’ve tried. I’ve tutored 4 days a week to get a ‘C’ in a college course because I failed it the first time.
It’s just something I have to come to terms with; it will never change. But yet, I beat myself up about it because I tell myself that if I could only know how to do that, I would be in a better place than I am right now. I would be smarter than I am now, I would be able to achieve more because of it, and I wouldn’t be here.
It’s all out of my control and I’m trying so very, very hard.
So I’ll keep on giving myself these bruises on things that I can’t change; for things that are out of my control. I’ll keep wearing down my knuckles, and making my body sore.
And hope that one day, I will find peace.