Self-Saboteur

I am a self-saboteur. I know it. I hate it. But I rarely change it and when I do... well, it never seems to last for long. Today I read something that opened me up to yet another layer within myself. I am self-abandoning. I don't think you can be a self-saboteur if you aren't self-abandoning. What do I mean by that? I mean, no one else has or will abandon me but myself. Not since becoming an adult anyway. It's my biggest crime when I am in a relationship. I make it all about the other person and I completely and utterly abandon myself. I place all the weight on my partner which is completely and utterly unfair on them. I stop putting time in to my own spiritual practice. I stop delving in to the deep areas of my self and my spirit and all the other amazingly deep stuff I enjoy. I just stop. For instance I'm still unwinding myself from a decade long relationship where I no longer tracked the moon and the stars. I no longer celebrated the solstices and equinoxes. I no longer sought space to meditate or practice reiki on myself, I barely even read my cards. I stopped lighting candles and incense and just being present with myself. Worst of all... I blamed my partner. *facepalm* He never stopped me. Why would he? He didn't want me to be miserable. He never asked me not to believe in what I believed in, he never told me to stop my practice. He may have criticised certain things or aspects, he may have scoffed at some of my beliefs, he may have complained heavily about the smell of my candles and incense, but at the end of the day, none of that matters because that is him and I am me. I allowed him far too much power, which isn't his fault. It is mine. If I'd been a stronger person I would have put a boundary up that didn't allow his opinions and discomfort through and I could have continued learning and deep diving. I also abandoned my self-esteem. I stopped loving myself and praising myself. I stopped feeling good about things I did unless I got outward validation. I'm still a prisoner to this one. I'm still learning how to truly love who I am and how to stop relying on the outside world to tell me I'm worthy, lovable, awesome, beautiful. This could be the most difficult one of all. The more I dive in to healing the wounds I've inflicted upon myself, the more I realise how much I hate on myself. I find this really interesting because I don't hate who I am. I actually think I'm fucking awesome. I have an amazingly creative spirit. I love to produce beautiful things. I love to love. I love to forgive. I love to accept everyone the way they are. I love people. All people. I see the world from every angle. I see the space for everything in this world, the good, the bad, the ugly. I'm always ready to be emotionally available to people. I'm always happy to listen to people vent their current problems and help them see it from all the different angles. I love when I feel passionately about something I am like a fricking boulder that can't be swayed, yet at the same time I remain moveable and not stuck in the earth, so my position can alter if needed. Yet deep down I hate on me. I wish I knew where it came from. I wish I knew how to eradicate it. That little heartless, foul, critical bitch inside me. I try to send it love, but most of the time her voice is so insidious I don't even know she's been whispering to me until after I've bought the food, or said the horrible thing. I don't blame my partner at all for the end of our relationship. Yes, he took way too long to start stepping in the right direction. He decided to get the help he needed and the help we needed when it was beyond salvage. Yet he has taken the steps, he was willing to step up. That's more than a lot of people do. I'll be forever grateful for that. The beauty is, he'll be a better father for it to my gorgeous kids and if he ever finds someone else to enter in to a relationship with, he will be a better partner for them. I hope he never does. *snort* I can't handle living with him ever again, but it doesn't mean I want him to be with anyone else. I still love him after all. Deeply. So deep I have days, sometimes weeks of feeling like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and it is just hanging there on the outside of me, drip, drip, dripping blood all down my front leaving me sticky. So sticky that the smallest amount of dirt sends me in to a tail spin. Yet I know it's for the best, that I walk away and stay away. I know this, because I haven't had a single thought of wishing I was dead since I declared it. Not one thought. I remember a time where I used to think about dying on a daily basis. To the point where I almost committed to it. Two nights in a row I sat on the lounge and seriously considered doing it to the point I knew exactly how I would do it. That was before, this is now. Now I'm pretty damn sure he got his official ASD diagnosis and is getting more focused help because he's changed. Something in him has shifted. He is softer, gentler, kinder. Not words I would have used to describe him before. Before he had very hard edges, very defined harsh edges. He loved, but he wasn't kind. But this isn't about him, I digress. This is about me and my lack of self-love, self-caring, self-nurturing, self-supporting. This is about me and my shame. My shame over how morbidly obese I am, because I am unworthy. I am not worth fighting for, everyone has proven that to me over and over and over and over again. Every fucking time. My (ex)partner probably thinks he fought for me, but he didn't. He only ever had excuses. The only person who ever fought for me and held on tight no matter how much I pushed and shoved, is my sister. Which is probably why she is my most beloved person in the world. She cherished me from the start, before I even wanted her affections. I damn near hated her but she loved me anyway. She adored me. She thought I was the best thing ever. So now, now she is the best thing ever. She never gave up on me. I guess my 1DS's dad didn't either, which is probably why we are such good friends still after all these years. He still loves me to this day and I have no doubt that if I showed any kind of interest in reconciling with him, he'd be in feet first. Sadly for him... and for me I guess... I just have no interest in being in a relationship with the man. I love him, but I love him like a brother and nothing more. Which is good in a way, at least I have one brother. So this whole self-abandonment thing has gotten stuck in my head, which is a good thing. It's a good thing because today I didn't buy another coke even though there were about 5 or so conversations in my head where the ittybittybitch tried to convince me I needed some. Even when 1DS went to 711 I had a full-on internal argument with ittybittybitch about it. It only took a couple seconds but if you saw me, and I'm pretty sure 1DS noticed, he's perceptive like that, I was blank to the outside world for a second or two. Yet I prevailed. I didn't get him to go get me anything. I feel accomplished by that. I feel like maybe I'm getting back on the damn wagon that helped me lose 10kgs at the start of the year, before I finally quit my decade long relationship that send me in a massive downward spiral where I put all the fucking weight back on again. Instead of berating myself about only having 1 shake today, I congratulated myself for at least having 1 shake today. Today I have had about 3 cups of coffee, with whipped cream - sad but true. I've had two bowls of cereal, and a massive bowl of my sausage casserole and rice. Probably enough to feed about 3 people who aren't morbidly obese like me. But that is ok. Do you know why? Because today I didn't drink any coke cola. I didn't drink any iced coffee. I didn't have any biscuits. I didn't have any chips. I haven't had any chocolate other than the hot chocolate variety I put in my cuppa. I've had barely any water, I had just 1 shake, I haven't had any magnesium or iron, etc, but today is still a good day. Today is still a day to celebrate, because of what I didn't have. And because I DID have that 1 shake, which is better than none. It's time for me to get back on track to loving myself again. To stop blaming myself for my failed relationship. To stop berating myself for not being good enough, strong enough, wise enough, aware enough.... enough. It's time to acknowledge my unworthiness and be ok with it. I am the Unworthy Art Therapist and I own that today. I own that in a way where I can be OK with that, where that title doesn't have any negative connotations. It just is what it is and I am what I am. Today is a good day, despite the tears. Today is a good day regardless of all the things I didn't do. Today is a good day to be me. I am alive today. I earned money today. I got some small things done today. So no matter how unworthy I am, there's that. Peace out nigger. Much of enough from the Unworthy Art Therapist.