Why do we struggle to be kind to ourselves?
I don’t have an objective answer for that. It just is. It is so hard that I still keep memories of past failures. I feel the energy, anger, and embarrassment.
However, when it comes to others going through their mental health journey, I always have a kind word. I tap into what they have endured and try to remind them that they are worthy of love and wellbeing.
When applying these two voices towards me, one always seems mad at me and the other careless. It is like the first one doesn’t let me off the hook and the second one tells me nothing is that important and only I matter.
At times, neither serve the purpose of moving on. My mad voice wants to let me know just how angry it is and how it wants to be heard. It is coupled with the things that happened to me and how they were overlooked by everyone, including me.
The kinder voice seems to forget that what happened matters. My abuse matters, my incredibly unstable upbringing matters. When it tells me that there’s nothing to be done about it. It fuels the other voice that gets angry quickly because it feels left out.
I sometimes think the hardest part of letting go is that I will find myself in unfamiliar territory. In a way, keeping my pains and memories close to me often feels like a reminder and a cautionary tale.
Letting go means to be open again to vulnerability, which is really scary. Also, it is when you know you have moved on and are strong enough to face whatever is thrown at you.
As I am not the child I once was, I do go back to it more times than I think I should.
Be kind, don’t rewind. That is a good motto. I will try to do that, maybe I won’t be so angry all the time.