Batshit Crazy

I’ve been examining myself as of late, OK honestly I’ve been examining, over analyzing, criticizing and beating myself up for my entire adult life. OK since this blog is about honesty let’s be honest. I’ve been doing it … well since the beginnings of consciousness I’m sure.

I would bet any amount of money that when I was a baby I degraded myself for how fat my behind looked in the diaper. For how quickly I spoke, versus my sister. For how long it took me to crawl (I never did I rolled … similar to my adult life) and all kinds of inconsequential things like that over which I had no control. I know I was never fussy or a loud crier, probably because I didn’t want to be imperfect in any way..

I still to this day beat myself up over childhood issues such as … when I peed my pants in grade school because I was too embarrassed to get up in class and go to the bathroom, or worse yet even ASK the teacher if I could go!

I recall experiences with boys in grade school in which I’m sure if I were to have reacted differently, spoke differently or dressed differently, did my hair differently, I would surely have been popular.

I remember in grade school despising myself because I still had training wheels, and we went biking with the family and everyone probably thought I was mentally retarded. Or what about the time in Jr High when the horse, whom I adored and had known for approximately 48 hours me and 100 other girl scouts who probably drove the horse to insanity, decided he didn’t want me on his back anymore and tried scraping me off with the help of a tree. Scarred me forever. How could the animal I loved so much be so mean. Surely it was my fault.

What about all the horrible memories I dredge up, even to this day, about being ugly, flat chested, unpopular, not studious, etc. etc. etc. If only I had tried harder, been better and more determined and popular my life would be so much different right now. To this day, day in and day out, I’m still the ugly under performing duckling that I was in adolescence and it drives me to insanity. 

What do I mean by insanity? By that I mean … walking into a public place assured in my mind that I am an ugly hog. Working day in and day out thinking that one day people are going to figure out that I’m really a moron who needs not only a brain but therapy. Going to the store and thinking people are staring at me because I’m so hideous and horrible, like a car accident, that they can’t look away. There are brief moments that I think it may be because I have a good hair day, but those moments are fleeting.

It’s time to call a therapist.