so I’ve been pretty afraid to try my best at things, because that has often been linked to rebound eating, hunger, bingeing and overdoing whatever behavior it was that I was trying to curb when my inner self destruction, mean girl, inner critic, what have you, Demon of Low Self-Worth appears on the scene and ruins whatever I was trying to create.
This feels deceptively like a very authentic part of me, like something that is fighting for the real Megan to come through, to be loved for her faults/with her faults in a way. It is deceptively human, and humanizing. I think, I deserve to be loved for not being perfect, I deserve to not be perfect, and I deserve to indulge myself. loving becomes indulging and is more about giving in to impulses, especially when they are ill-considered and unlikely to actualy satisfy true need.
Like sure, have that hamburger. If you give yourself what you want, you will be happy and authentic. If you do something you don’t want to get a result you claim to want, you are a cold bitch Machiellian, so eat the goddamn sandwich or next time i will get you with a dozen cookies two sandwiches and a bread bowl.
I have long, lonve feared this part of me. Because this part of me is what gave me limits, and comfort.
But i didn’t want to let it go, it felt too much like home. Not that my family isn’t proud of me in their way, but they are people who have built their lives with trying to be happy with what they have and mostly focusing on relationships, friendly and in their marraiges.
so what I am doing is completely authentic , to leave, and not even for a relationship, which also wouldn’t have been tolerated from me since my role in the family these days is badass independent woman adventurer- is she selfish or just fearless?
does she even really love us?
She only sees us once or twice a year but she always finds the money to travel. When we’re gone, then she’ll regret it but i wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
But i’m a dutiiful daughter and that didn’t happen to me, guess there was some perks of staying at home.
No wonder she can’t find a man if she’s always traveling and never stays in one place. SHe cares too much about her career. Acually she doesn’t care enough, all she cares about is travel, and what is that but an escape- where is she escaping to, isn’t France enough?
She was always the strange one anyway- that’s why she fits in so well with the frogs.
It makes me sad that i think people do sometimes thin this way about me, and even more sad that I can particularly
remember the instances of some of the above coming out of someone I respects male. Ouch, that hurt.
No wonder I don’t want to go back, and I”m not sure if I want to go home for Christmas.
But I do because I love them and they love me, and a lot of this is just my inner critic talking- who they did in fact help create, much as they will say I always had that “drive” and they didn’t expect anything great out of me.
But they did, I think, and this life while fun to tell the neighbors about is not what they expected. Oh well, sucks for tehme.
As for me, know I do well enough in the making people jealous of my life contest.
Because I don’t give a fuck anymore.
My childhood babysitter says I’m not the little girl she used to take to the library- now I’m out traveling the world. I”m ure no one would have seen me doing it, least of all me.
I feel like I’m speaking out of turn, too much about me, too much about what’s importat to me than what category I fit into, and if I’ve checked the boxes, and if there can be some schaden frude about the fact that I, while living a prety authentic life ahat I really enjoy, have not crossed off all the milestones yet
ANd I will sometime. That I feel pretty confident abou , because it is a part of what I desire. A part.
Maybe f I was a full time traveller I wouldn’t like it as much.
I am happy that i’ve been going on quests of my own now, rathe rthan just oging to see something that didnt know what I wanted.
But anyway, back to the demon.
The demon is the tempestuous God outstairs who bangs the broom on their celing to disturb me when I”m having sex, or a moments peace.
That’s just how it is.
But no more.
There is no more reason to be afraid of the demon than there is to be afraid of the monster in the closet.
But you will continue to be afraid of the monster in the closet unless you can see that it’s not real.
Like the creatures in M N Shaymalan’s the Village.
When you are loved by people, and truly taken care of, it helps light back up the star within you. And I’m not talking about validation, I’m talking about love, the kind of love that can be tough and adjust you back on your right path. The love of a coach or teacher, not a sycophant, not a positive affirmations specialist, not that person taht doesn’t respect or care for you enough to tell the truth. More than likely this person will witness both good and bad things about you, and will reassure you you that you are only human and it’s ok, and you are still worthy of effort and love.
And little by little, your spark will be reignited, and you will start to be shiny.
And only by your own lifht, which it might take months and years to grow, will you see that there never has been anything in the closet–
That when you came out of the closet of your own making, of your limitations others false beliefs and iill intetions imposed on you, the revenge of the weak amongst the strong, the resentment that causes you to write a song like Jenny from the Block because your success threatens everyone around you, especially if they have helped you on your path. It stings, and if they are not entirely happy with the life they lived and they lacked the courage to live the one they wanted, which more or less might resemble yours.
And love is making love in the light of a dying fire, of being together in a rough corrugated metal shack, two souls in the middle of no where, just feelign each other.
And love is when you have to trat yourself better than you have ever treated yourself, because someone believes in you and has invested in you.
And you know, because of them, that you really deserve it. And you don’t do it for them, you really truly do it for you. And that’s a reason.
You stop wanting to change the world adn start wanting to live your life. You stop grasping for control and want freedom more than power.
And that my friends’ is how to tame the green eyed monsters, inside and out, wherever they may be.
Pssst turn on the light.
PS and maybe it’s all called into being by dualism, and the beleif there has to be an eternal battle of dark and night, live and sun. And es, all is well.