You Can Tell

Zack and I went on a week long trip on the central coast. It was a much needed trip, I guess. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I was expecting. A part of me was hoping to just enjoy it, but there was a weight of guilt too. I wanted to spend the time to reflect on this past year that we'd been through. So much muck, ache, loss, grief, horror, and brokenness. The past two years have been the worst we've been through, and it scares me to think that it's not going to get any better. So maybe the trip was purely selfish. I'm not sure if that's what it was, but I feel selfish for wanting it and enjoying myself.

These days, all I feel is guilt for being selfish. I feel like the most wicked person in the world most days. I look at myself and think that I deserve the worst pit of Hell because I'm such a bad person. I mean, people have treated me as if I'm a bad person my whole life, so I must be, right? Zack's family told all these people that I'm manipulative, a liar, an Aja equivalent, the worst thing to happen to them. I'm like a pox on their perfect picture of what family should behave like.

My previous boss went around and told an entire department that I stole from them. I stole time and cheated them from making me work outside of my contract. I still felt so guilty, because I hate it when people dislike me.

They say that truly bad people don't question their actions or feelings. They don't doubt they're a good person. They hold their head high, confident that what they think, say, and do is right and good. They rarely if ever question themselves or doubt their self perceived goodness.

Yet, I still see myself as a bad person. I'm not popular, likable, attractive, successful, or noteworthy. There's nothing to my value except my existence and what space that takes up on this planet. People tell me that I have immense value to God, but I don't see it. I guess that seems pathetic, but what else is new? It's so much easier to believe what other people say about me, because it's what I was taught to prioritize. I never had anyone tell me I had good qualities. I was always told that I was bad.

So here I am, trying to be good while being treated poorly. Currently, I stick my head in a hole and give up altogether when there's even a slight possibility of making a mistake that causes people to say I'm awful. It's that good old anxiety and depression from how others treated me in the past. Both working in tandem to make sure I never think I'm a good person for even a moment.

Of course I'm always wrong.

Of course I'm the one to blame.

Of course it's my fault.

Why would it be anyone else's?

So here I sit, in a contraption of my own making, quiet and alone because that's just what I should feel. Any time I've tried to feel good, I'm just brought back here so it must mean that it's all I'm allowed to have.

That must be it.

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