I had never for a moment considered the concept that I, as a person, matter.
Growing up I assumed that if I messed up I would be punished, so I would punish myself.
As a teen I assumed that my needs were secondary, so I prioritized others over myself. Even when I needed something.
I convinced myself that no matter what problem I had, I was the source and I deserved it somehow.
Eventually someone tried to tell me that I was too hard on myself. I misunderstood. I started acting differently.
I stopped putting as much effort into things. I acted like the failures didn’t hurt. I acted like I was fine.
Every time I messed up, it hurt that much more. Because I said it didn’t.
Every time I wasn’t included I said I didn’t mind, have fun. It destroyed me.
Acting like I was fine and selfish hurt me a million times more than I let anyone know.
But by now I had a new lie.
“Everything will be happier if I seem happy”
“Everyone will be happier if I’m just not there”
Eventually this became an idea.
Now I would say I’m healthier.
I know that the various thoughts I’ve had were wrong.
But the thoughts are like parasites.
But sometimes they’re so loud I believe them again.