It's 4:00 am and I can't sleep.I have been trying since last Friday to write, not because I have to, but because writing actually helps.
I didn't like any of my writings, so, as fast as I wrote, I deleted. Each effort seemed to me either "silly" or not interesting, or too negative.
Is that what is called self doubt? Could be, but I'm not sure it is the case with what has been happening this week. After all, I am writing just to express myself, to say what's on my mind, to be listened to. I'm not writing to become popular or to sell anything. Then why delete what I have been saying? Am I ashamed of my feelings and emotions? Am I afraid to disappoint you all who believe in me? I'm sure there is a little of that of all these options, but I would rather say that the main reason is denial.
I refuse to feel the way I do.
I refuse to admit my weaknesses.
I refuse to get hurt again.
I refuse to give up.
I refuse to admit that I need help.
The truth is that I do need help. ... I need help. ... Could anyone help me? ... Would anyone help me? ... Please?
There ... I have said it. I will try to keep this article. I will try not to delete it. This is me. I am honest and open with all of you, so why not be honest and open with myself too?
I have spent all these years trying hard to earn the approval of others. I have done my best to show them I was strong enough to handle everything, however, I had no faith in my own strength. I thought I was just pretending and acting, but now I see it. Now I know that I am strong. Now I know that I am ME and I also know that this "me" is strong but I still have needs like any other person, any other creature on this planet.
Are those signs of weakness? I thought they were, but I was wrong. Those are the essence of our existence.
I need love. I need respect. I need to exist, to breathe and to live.
Above all, I need MY OWN love, respect and acceptance. Is that too much to ask? Where do I find this acceptance? How do I start to love myself? Which compartment of my mind or my heart is it hidden in? When did I stop respecting myself? Is that, too, buried under the bombed-out rubble of my war-torn childhood? Will I ever be able to look at that face in the bathroom mirror and see beyond the skin? How do I access the true, inner me, and make friends with her at last ... because, from the tiny sprout of new friendship springs the wonderful flower of non-judgmental love.
I need your help and I need my love. By reading this, you are helping. Thank you.