I sit down here to write, and I have all these ideas of the things I want to write about, and then my brain jumps in and tells me that no one cares. It is self sabatage on a level like none other. Everytime I want to make something worth while, my brain tells me that it's pointless. It tells me that I will fail, or no one will care, or it's not worth doing, or whatever other thing it can come up with to get me to stop. So why do I keep going? What is the point in continuing to push myself to do anything when all the things I try to do I beat myself up over?
Because that voice isn't allowed to win.
I used to call it my "Dark Unwanted Passenger", which is still true to a point. It is dark, it is unwanted, and it's always there right next to me trying to get me to drive my life how it wants. However I really think it goes a lot deeper than that. It's not that it's a passenger in this car I call my life, it is me. When I look at the passenger seat I am not looking at something else, I am just looking at myself. I am looking at a part of myself that I can not seem to control. I am looking at a part of myself that has always been, and will most likely always be, there. It's not another person, or another personality, or anything like that. It is all the dark parts of me that I have been trying to hide and pretend they don't exist, all coming back up to fight me for control.
See, I went about it all wrong growing up. The world I was raised in taught me from birth that I was never going to fit in being myself, and that fitting in was the most important part. Standing out was only for those who had their lives together and weren't mentally broken like I was. Standing out was only for the important people, not for me, not for mister clutz. Standing out was for people who were smarter than me, and more attractive than me, and more popular than me. Standing out was not for me, and I needed to sit down and learn to just fit in.
There are so many examples of this in my past. So many examples of times where the world I was raised in made it very clear that if I didn't change, I was never going to be actually accepted for who I was, or who I am.
I wanted to be a singer, then in high school on a church missions trip, while I was trying to hone in on who I was as a singer, someone I trusted and respected looked me dead in the eyes and told me, "can you please stop singing, it's just aweful when you sing like that." Then a few years later when I got up the courage to try to be a singer again, the person I was dating and planning to marry looked at me and told me, "yeah, I don't know what happened but your voice is just aweful, please stop."
I wanted to be a youth pastor for years, wanted to work with kids and help them understand that they didn't need to feel alone, that God had a place for everyone. So I tried to be mentored by my churches youth pastor, and was ignored, put down, and told that I wouldn't be able to follow in their footsteps until I learned to get what ever was wrong with my brain under control. The youth pastor, senior pastor, and multiple church leaders all on different occasions told me that my ADHD, and what I learned later in life was Autism spectrum, were too much and too problematic to ever be in a leadership role and I needed to just step back and assist, not lead.
I have wanted to be a writer, a story teller, my entire life, and out of all the writing and english teachers I've had, only 2 have ever seen any promise in me and pushed me to do better. 6th and 10th grade were the only years I really felt like I could become a great writer, story teller, and even a poet. Now a days I can't get anyone to even help proofread any of my writing to let me know if they enjoy it or if I am just rubbish, which leads that dark voice in my head to tell me that I need to just give up.
I wanted to be an artist for a very long time. I love abstract art and patterns and art that speaks to you. I would draw all the time, doodles and large peices and patterns and anything that came to mind. Even have gone so far as to make my own coloring book. I have sold a total of 10 copies, 80% of which have been bought by my mother as gifts for other people. I am grateful for her support, but it really charges up those voices to tell me that I am not as good as I think I am or want to be.
My dark voice, and the world I was raised in, taught me to doubt myself at every turn. Raised me to feel guilty for ever wanting to speak up and stand out and be unique. Built walls around the parts of me that made me feel whole, so that way I would be able to fit in just that much better with the world around me. I am trying to escape it, trying to run away from it, trying to destroy these walls as I find them.
Only thing I can't seem to do is get that dark voice to go away. Can't seem to get the dark thoughts to leave me alone. I have learned to ignore them, and not let them win, just not how to get them to go away and leave me alone. I don't want them there anymore, but there is almost 40 years of trauma and repression to be dealt with first, and I am not sure where to even start. I'm not giving up though. Never giving up.
