Post #2825020

Sitting in the corner of my couch, looking out my windows at the darkness and weeping. (It's ok. This is good.) The other day I wrote, "My next layer of recovery work will be around my tendency to be overwhelmingly fearful of a task, avoiding it for way too long, then finally doing it and realizing it was not that big of a deal. I need to spend a season (please do not hear a quarter of a year but 'enough time') to hear me well and discern the pattern and begin the work of telling myself the truth to replace the lie I've been believing. What am I afraid of and why am I afraid of it? I'll let you know when I tell me." And a counselor friend wrote back, "Something to consider could be a subconscious belief that the outcome must be perfect or done a specific way. That sometimes can prevent people from doing the task not because they are fearful of said task but of it not being done a certain way. It could also be a way to delay possible scrutiny if your work was constantly commented on in another time of your life." Good lord she nailed it and I told her so. I've experienced too many people disappointed in me. Too many times when the work I've done is not enough, which I've translated into ME not being enough. She replied, "Ok, so you aren't a procrastinator by nature. You procrastinate to avoid the pain of being judged. You can overcome this by realizing that the only person who needs to assess your work is you." I'm not sure I agree with every word here, some of what I do is assessed (bosses for example, get to have opinions on my work) but I agree with the sentiment of it. I'm mixing up my who and my do. When I do something and it doesn't come out right, I take it personally. I've been trained much of my life to think this way. When I fell short it was never (I tried to write 'seldom' here, but I truly could not think of one time my failure was treated with grace and kindness as a child), 'Here, let me show you/help you." It was more, "What is wrong with you!?!" and in later years it was "WTF is wrong with you!?!" Like I remember carrying something, it was really heavy, and I had to carry it a long way. I have a habit of forcing myself to not hold my breath when I do physically difficult things, so I was breathing in rhythm with my steps, and he said, "What the hell are you doing?" I had again displeased him. So much disgust. This is why I have been working on my land and this house and this place. I needed a safe place and a peaceful home to work out these last layers of broken thinking. So I sit in the corner of my couch and weep and write and sort and there is no one here to disapprove of me. I won't always think this way. I have hope. But today, realizing all of this, putting this all together, is a sad day.