Insecurity Addicts

Insecurity addicts have an unfortunate and stubborn fondness for trying to outdo our own self abuse. We're cutters, burners, miserable sluts or voracious depressives. Or all of the above. We cling so tightly to our own misery, worried that if we let go, if we relinquish the tiniest bit, somehow we are diminished...even shallow. When I was at my self loathing height, I felt it was almost a duty for me to be unhappy. How could I, how could anyone with any depth, ever get over being raped as a kid? What kind of lowlife could I be, to dare even contemplate a joyful life? Naw, I better give up hope, toss ambition out the window, forget about my foolish dreams. I am an incest victim. Nothing else. My scars must and will be all that defines me.

Like I said. Stubborn.

Of course that's all bullshi*. I am a wonderful, talented and very kind person who happens to have experienced true horror and bled from it. So what? I've made monumental mistakes for the majority of my life. Again, so what? I'm not bleeding now. My mistakes don't go monumental anymore. I am a wealth of both bad and good choices, dumb ideas and clever insight, broken hearted misery and breathless joy. The difference is that now, I understand my mindset was addictive, and I treat it as an addiction. Daily self love exercises, refraining from witty self abuse, cutting negative people out of my life, is how I protect myself. Where once I was stunted and stagnant, now I'm growing.