And you're lucky, because I don't generally give vent to all my feelings of inadequacy. Which generally means you don't have to listen to the slog that goes through my head every day.
It was suggested that I list all my reasons that I feel inadequate, or what I feel that I'm "bad at", so that I could begin working on those areas to improve if I could, or to recognize that I'm self-exaggerating.
I believe if I did that, it would take me all day to write down all the little negative things I think inside a single hour.
If there's an area in which I recognize that I excel, it's in the catagory of self-loathing.
There are very few things I think about myself in a positive light.
I'm a good cook.
Keeping in mind that I tend to qualify and quantify even those few good qualities that I recognize. (Ie, I'm relatively bright, but genius doesn't have quite as many practical applications as one might expect... )
I recognize that I'm being too harsh on myself. I recognize that the way I think and how I react to situations is unhealthy.
I know and yet, I do not feel, the truth of those things.
I'm a big fan of Tyler Durden.
This is your life
Good to the last drop
Doesn't get any better then this
This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else
We are all the a part of the same compost heap
We are the all singing all dancing crap of the world
I know that the roots of it started with my parents. My mother, who always held me up short in comparison with other children, who dismissed my interests as wasteful, who blew off my accomplishments as her just-due, and who was constantly reminding me that I wasn't as attractive, thin, or charming as she was. My father, who ignored me unless he was being called in by my mother to add his disapproval to my report cards or behavior.
And yet, while it might have started there, that was the image of me they were selling, I still bought it, made it my own, nurtured this feeling of never being good enough, of always being substandard, second-rate, and barely passable. I bought it. It's been bought, paid for, dusted, and stored on the mantelpiece for display.
It's time to get rid of it.
And like the portrait of Sirius Black's mom, it's stuck to the wall with a Permanant Sticking Charm, and I have my own little Kreachers trying to keep me from cleaning up. They will, I've no doubt, steal things out of the rubbish bin and try to put everything back where it was.
Now is exactly the right time to change.