This is me.

I have anxiety and depression.  Below is the conversation I have inside my brain on bad days. Below isn’t even really a bad day it’s just a okay day. A snippet.  The nasty crap nobody wants to let out.  The reason why alcohol and drugs are so often abused.

Is it self pity?  Absofuckinglutely YES and NO.  People who are depressed hate this self pity brain chemical.  We don’t want to be worthless or feel worthless.  We would love to be focused outward not inward.  But we are chained inside a miserable damning place.  It is the fighting against it, the trying to escape, that nearly ends us.

Trying to tell us we are worthy and we matter is like banging on a locked cage desperately trying to help us escape but the cage is stronger.  We know you’re there trying but…


Stream Of Consciousness:  a manner of writing in which thoughts or perceptions occur in random form, without regard for logical sequences, syntactic structure, distinctions between various levels of reality

I have a million thoughts right now.   I’m trying hard to reject all of them. None of them are worthy.

Not a single one.

The sun was shining this morning. It was doing good. The birds flew by singing. Doing good. My friends are all up supporting each other. Doing good. Supporting me.

It’s a waste of time. I can’t be supported.

I can’t be supported because there is not one good worthy thing to support. Yea I know it’s just my brain. But that’s just it. IT IS MY BRAIN. I can’t fix it. I can’t buy a new one.   I can’t just live without one. So I am stuck with made up monsters.


My monsters weren’t put there by abuse.

My monsters weren’t created by anyone but me. I am the abuser. I am abusing myself. And I hate myself. I destroy myself.

You know how you see someone and you think they are gorgeous? But you get to know them and their personality and you think wow they are really kind of hideous? No? Yes? Am I the only one?

Well that’s what I see when I look in the mirror. The face I see is deceptive. You don’t see the abuser inside constantly slapping and bruising my insides. You don’t hear the words it uses. You don’t feel the sharp jabbing words that shred my confidence, my dignity, and my self-worth.

The one thing at the very core of an abuser is SELFISHNESS. My abuser is selfish and believes things I despise. And since this abuser is me there is this innate and core foundational duality inside me.

You don’t see it unless you listen hard and watch close. But the abuser is me. And she’s nasty and mean and ugly.


7 thoughts on “SELF ABUSE

    1. I can’t “like” that, because I know you are NOT like that. How come many can see you as a lifesaver, and yet you STILL manage to hate yourself for everything you are NOT?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I don’t see it. I am mostly blind to my good points. I know I have them – I *must*, otherwise it undermines the very high opinion I have of others (who, for their reasons, hold me in some kind of esteem for whatever) – but trying to internalise them is like trying to nail shadows to a wall 😦

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Hmmm, I am beyond sorry this is how you feel about yourself because this isn’t the you that you potray at all to those who don’t know you well. And I have never ever seen a depressed individual look as wonderful as you do.
    I sincerely hope you find a way back from these dark thoughts quickly.


  2. “O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!” Walter Scott
    And there is no greater liar than depression weaving its web. You have said it painfully well.


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