Inside Cassie

I have never been someone who shies away from looking inward. At least, that is what I always told myself. Reflecting on that today I am not so sure of how much truth there is to that.
I think I have been willing to look inward, but never too deep. Never to the source of the pain, the events that led to me carrying it with me all these years. No… I think it is different than that. As I am reading that sentence back, I feel like I am again looking at the wrong thing… I think the truth is that I never allowed myself to look at how those believes shaped the way I see myself.

I am going to do this in free writing format, because I am worried that if I stop and think too long on it, I will never get it out, or worse, convince myself I have been looking deep enough…

Blame

It is why I became undone when I read this part in the book “It’s not ok to feel blue and other lies” in a chapter called “How can I help?”:

I am here for you.
I love you.
This is not your fault.
This was never your fault.
It will take time, but this will get easier.

This chapter was about (the wrong) things people commonly say to someone in severe emotional distress, and what they could say instead.
The sentences “This is not your fault. This was never your fault.” caused me to break down crying for a long time… It still feels raw whenever I read it back.

Because the truth is, I spend my entire life blaming myself for being so ‘broken’.

I blamed myself for being weird and off-putting (because I had to be, right?) I never had any friends, not really. The only ‘friends’ I made was whenever I mirrored what they wanted to see, becoming a diminished version of myself, because none of what I showed was real.

I blamed myself for being too stupid to succeed at school. I blamed myself for not being social enough. I blamed myself for not being what others wanted me to be. I blamed myself for not asking for help. I blamed myself for no one noticing how much I was hurting. I blamed myself for everything I ever failed at. I blamed myself for… everything…

And that blame… I internalized…

Hate

From that internalized blame came hatred…

For as long as my memories go back, I have hated myself. It wasn’t a hate I was often aware of, but it was always there, guiding me. I call it ‘it’, but I need to acknowledge the truth: it was never a separate entity. It was always me. I hated myself. I acknowledge that now. I hated myself more than I have ever hated anyone else throughout my life. I hated myself more than I ever felt capable of hating.

And because I hated myself, I indulged in self-destructive behavior without being aware of it (at least on a conscious level). I made myself smaller, adapting to different masks, mirroring what I thought people wanted me to be. I never voiced my needs, no matter how in how much pain I was. I sought out unhealthy relationships with people who would take advantage of me, or those were struggling just as much as I was, so I could carry them… If I had been honest with myself back then, I would have acknowledged: “I choose people who need something from me, because then I will have value to them. And the reason I need to have value to them is because I believe there is nothing about me that is worthy of love on its own… I believe I am unlovable.”

To be continued…

I am going to stop here. I am drained, but I also know there is so much more I want/need to write. So, I will commit to ‘to be continued’.