The Self in the Esteem

 The Self in the Esteem

For decades, I've struggled with self worth, self-esteem.

My past taught me early on that my value lay only in how I could be of use, be of service, be pleasing to and for others. It was a lesson painfully learned and oft repeated when I dared to consider another way, that I may have a worth that wasn't only attached to those around me and their ever-fluctuating opinion of me. 

Now, I find it's no surprise that a large part of being unable to value myself is due to having been unable to develop a sense of Self in the first place. How could I consider myself to have any value if I didn't develop a Self in the first place. 

Children of narcissists, of abusers ... children born of and into trauma often find themselves preoccupied with learning what their caregivers needs are during the stages of development when they should be learning what their own needs are. 

This missing element in a child's development creates myriad complications as they grow and develop. Interoception, body dysmorphia, damaged (if present) self-esteem and self-worth and, at its worst, it can prevent the development of a true sense of Self. And these are just the ones I can think of in the moment. 

It's only now, in my late 40s that I am realising, accepting, wading through what has brought me to be the person I am today ... the traumas, the determination, the intelligence, the refusal to be the person I could have been ...

Because the person I could have been didn't break the cycle - she followed, dutifully, obediently, unquestioningly, and she was broken. 

I am not she. 

I am me and I am worthy. 

The puzzle

When you’ve spent the past three decades thinking you’ve had your shit together, only to learn that it was a façade and that denial is, not only real, but also a real mean bitch; how do you pull yourself apart and heal the broken or missing pieces of yourself so that you can have a hope of reassembling everything into something even remotely whole?

This is the puzzle I have been dealing with in every waking moment (and in most while asleep, too) since early October 2019. 

Childhood trauma, abuse, and neglect are powerful forces that, over time, inflict more damage, create deeper wounds, than is often fathomable. 

PTSD triggers seem to come from nowhere at times ... feeling a compulsion to grab house keys every time I take the bins out in case someone locks me out of the house; accepting blame when it is warranted but becoming almost debilitatingly anxious at the faintest whiff that I might be blamed for something that isn’t my fault; the anger that seethes through me when someone innocently asks where I’m going ...

Some of my triggers I have been aware of for a long time (the smell of chicken noodle soup makes me anxious and nauseated; when I feel I’m being ignored I want to just run away, far and fast) and some arrive suddenly, violently, swelling from some unknown abyss, leaving me drained, empty, confused, and wounded all over again. 

It’s bittersweet, opening up these sudden scars, realising past traumas that my subconscious decided to bury. I oscillate between “gods, I didn’t realise it was so bad!” and “that explains *so* much!” and both reactions are valid, if perplexing in their symbiosis. 

As I meet each one, systematically tearing it down to get to its roots, to unearth it’s core, I’m exhausted from the pain of remembering, the effort of disassembling ... and yet, I’m exhilarated by pride in what I’m accomplishing, how hard I am working to help the one person who always took a backseat in my life; myself. 

I work to put these delicate pieces of myself back together, discovering how they all fit, finding forgiveness for the hurt, scared, lost child I once was. 

And each piece finds its place within me anew. Strengthening my foundation. Building my sense of self. 

Me; my favourite and most challenging puzzle. 

Please be patient

Please be patient with me

Please be patient with me as I accept and navigate my new reality

Please be patient with me, this suggested diagnosis is difficult to swallow -- as much as I know it fits, it answers so many questions -- as much as it's almost epiphanic in its simplicity

Please be patient with me, I truly thought I knew what was going on

Please be patient with me, the path through "severe depression" cannot be rushed

Please be patient with me -- I know you're used to my highs, my "everything's fine"s, my ability to know the bright side of everything

Please be patient with me -- I, too, am used to those highs, that vantage point

Please be patient with me, the realisation that it's all been a cover, a facade over something deep, something tumultuous -- is difficult for me to handle

Please be patient with me as I (again) work to rebuild myself

Please be patient with me as I struggle with the amount of work still yet to be done.... especially when I feel I've come so far

Please be patient with me as my own patience, my sense of self, are battered and torn and shredded

Please be patient with me as I search for the right words, the definitions, the explanations, the realisations that I hope will serve me well in communicating what I, myself, don't understand

Please be patient with me as I struggle

10 Things You Probably Didn't Know About Me...

As it's been a while, I thought I'd ease myself back into blogging regularly(ish) with something simple... One of those ubiquitous, annoying "10 Things..." lists.

Bugger off. It's my blog and I can do what I want to, so there!

Potters, Hopton-On-Sea August 2017

Here goes!

10 Things You Probably Don't Know About Me:

1. I absolutely loathe photos of me. The above photo was taken by my lovely Sister-In-Law at her insistence. I understand her reasoning, hence why I stood for the photo(s! She took more than one!). Hopefully, someday I'll be able to look back on photos of myself and be OK with them. (Let's see if I can leave that photo there and not chicken out and take it down before this post goes live!)

2. I struggle with the concept of Good Enough. This has been an on-going theme throughout my life and I have actually had some very good, very expensive therapy regarding it. Throughout my life, I have felt that I am a disappointment to others, to myself. It's coupled with a strong sense of Perfectionism/Fear of Failure that means I hold myself to a far higher standard than I hold others and means that I am often overly, and even damagingly, self-critical. I have a fear of starting things, projects, because of this fear of failure - because if I don't start then I can't fail, right?! I frequently need to remind myself that I am good enough, that I am deserving of good things, deserving of being treated well and with respect. I am far better than I was but I acknowledge that I still have a long way to go... and that's good enough!

3. My favourite colour is Aurora Borealis (AKA "Iridescent"). It's actually a collection of colours; blues, greens, pinks, etc.

The surface of my bed-side table. Glitter under bartop resin. iPhone camera. Unedited.

4. I can't stand the word "toppings". Even saying it in my head makes me feel weird. This makes loving and ordering pizza rather difficult!

5. I have never eaten shrimp in any form. Does this make me strange(r)?

6. I am a big child. One of my life mottos is: I am forced to grow old; I refuse to grow up!

Card-carrying member. iPhone camera. Unedited.

7. We're moving! We're moving (further) away from London - eek! When I moved to London in 2004, I presumed that that was it. I fell in love. Love, I tell you!

I was first an "EastEnder" (but never on the soap). Then, in 2009, I moved "south of the river" gasp! And, again, became an EastEnder in 2012ish for a short while. Since then, I've lived for about 4 years in Essex, just beside London. London, for the past 13 years, has - at the very least - always remained in arm's reach! I'm not sure how I feel about being a 2-3 hour drive from my favourite city. The implications and my emotions surrounding it are, no exaggeration, bittersweet.

We're moving to a lovely part of the world called "Lincolnshire". It will be a significant change of lifestyle and will include the chance to develop hobbies, join clubs, exercise more.... All manner of things that the frantic pace of living "down south" doesn't seem to allow.

8. I love taking photographs. I have loved taking photos since I was a smaller child. We couldn't afford a decent camera so I spent my childhood working through a succession of cheap, crap cameras that used 110 film and did nothing to enhance my ability to take a photo. I even had a micro 110! How on earth one was supposed to get any kind of quality photos with one of those, I will never know!

In high school, I had wanted to take a photography class but it required having a 35mm camera with which to take the pictures. Again, the budget didn't allow this. I took it on the chin but was definitely envious of classmates who had access to a decent camera and felt an almost physical ache when I saw the photos they'd taken for the class.

When I was in my late 20s/early 30s, I was able to afford a decent and expensive (at the time) camera. I was super excited! Then, as life moved on, I never learned how to use it properly. It sat. I played with it a bit. I never really did anything with it other than use it in fully automatic mode, defeating the purpose of having that camera over a "point and shoot" version.

When we've moved, I plan on snapping more and joining a local camera club (there are at least three I can choose from!). I've recently bought some new lenses, some instruction books, and my desire to take good photographs is now even stronger than ever as I get one step closer and I'm super excited!

Random building in Southend-On-Sea. iPhone camera. Unedited. 19th August 2017

Potters, Hopton-On-Sea. iPhone camera. Unedited. August 2017

9. I love to sing! Like, seriously, love to sing. Thing 2, however, means that I am convinced I can't sing very well. People who are professional musicians/professors in music have told me that I can carry a tune and I still shy away from singing in front of anyone with whom I am not 100% comfortable around. I was in chorus all through grade school and junior high and a big part of me wishes I had carried on through high school... not because of who I could have been through singing; I have no aspirations... I just lament that I could have continued doing something I love instead of backing away because it wasn't cool.

When we move, however, there are three local choirs that I plan on investigating and, though it will be a genuine struggle to get the guts to do so, I plan on auditioning for at least one! I know! I'm just as surprised as you are, maybe even more so!

10. I am slowly writing a book about me. It will be a fictional adaptation based on my life leading up to age 40. Do you know enough about me to tell the difference between fact and fiction?

What are 10 things about you that I probably don't know?

I want...

Yesterday I paid for drugs.

Lots of drugs, actually, worth over £700.00 in total.

This fact leaves me feeling all sorts of emotions at the same time. So many that I am not sure I can articulate them coherently, but I feel I should try.

In 14 days our home will, once again, be filled with needles and alcohol wipes and my abdomen will again become filled with tiny holes. Holes through which I will inject the necessary hormones for trying to conceive via IVF.

Spouse and I have travelled this road together before. After "forever" of trying naturally, we started in October 2016. By December we learned that we'd not been lucky.

Of the eleven eggs removed; four fertilised. Two perfect embryos were implanted - and two perished before they could be frozen. The two that were implanted didn't "stick" and so the seven pregnancy tests I took that fateful day all came back negative.

No one knows why our embryos didn't "stick". I wrote cryptically about my reaction here and, to this day, the box has not been opened.

But it's not such a large box that I am unwilling to perhaps create another.

I adore my daughter; she's one of the most amazing people I've ever met, hands down, but I want a baby. I want a child with Spouse. I want to see his little face on a tiny human that he and I made together. I want to help raise amazing people who will change the world. I want to once again see my heart outside my body. I want...

I want.

The decision was fundamentally down to two things: me and finances. Spouse has been amazing throughout all of this. He cannot bear to do the injections or even watch me do them myself (I have no problem with them, thankfully), but whatever I have said, done, wanted or needed, he has been there, done that - no questions (other than the occasional checking in to make sure I'm not holding something back - I do have a tendency to do that).

As an aside, when this works and our child/ren ask where babies come from, we're going to tell them: When two people love each other very much.... Mummy becomes a pin cushion!

Or maybe not. But the chance to have to make that decision is a chance I cannot pass up.

So, I will be drugged and we will hope for "sticky" babies this time and I will be grateful that this option is available to us for we have tried and I am ageing and I want...

I want.