We all have our weaknesses and tapping into them is much easier than recognizing the beauty within yourself. I know first hand how this feels and many of you probably know as well. Here’s how I feel when I am feeling particularly low in self esteem:
It’s still. It’s the kind of stillness that feels more like a black abyss, and has a certain type of emptiness that will never be fulfilled. It’s dark. It’s the kind of darkness that with a sliver of hope may turn into light, but not soon enough. In this black hole, anything can trigger a chaotic frenzy of words and thoughts being jostled around like meteors crashing into earth, each creating its own catastrophic scar. It’s a constant shower of over thinking, over analyzing, and undermining myself. Am I good enough? Do you love me as much as I love you? Will I ever be able to be important? These questions come crashing into my head all at once, buzzing and ringing in my ears, creating massive destruction in my brain with each blow wounding my heart. My dark place is a world that I enter into sometimes. It’s nothing I can control because it happens out of the blue.
It start with the stillness, then progresses into the constant worry of if I am valued, if I am seen as someone that people want in their lives. It grows heavier, deeper, darker. I am transported to a jarring place. In front of me, a tall, lean door, black and dreary, with a heavy door knocker opens ajar, luring me into the bleak emptiness. It stands stories tall, casting an enormous shadow upon me. A spine chilling shiver creeps up my spine like a thousand little pin pricks. I stand in the shadow with the door open. It’s a trap. That’s when the personal reflection starts to occur. There’s a mirror at the other end of the spacious nothingness. Without even moving, the mirror comes rushing too close to me, creating a terrifying breeze blasting in my face. I analyze.
I see sadness, hate, pity, and disappointment. I feel nothing, only see these things because I am numb. Suddenly, without warning, the mirror shatters into a million pieces creating a spider web of pathways, and distorting the image that is me. The shards rush to the ground, and I am forced to watch each drop to the floor, creating a sharp high-pitched ding that plagues my eardrums. I am left to wonder, to wish, to want. I am left crying, and out of the tear ducts in my eyes, tiny crystals plod to the ground with every droplet, creating a massive crater, adding to the puddle that is now germinating into a river. It’s a river of sorrows, of self worth being carried away by a heavy flow of tears. There’s one way out. I see another door, pale yellow and cheerful. It seems miles away even though I am standing in close proximity to it.
I try to walk, but with each dreadful step, my feet become heavier and I feel as though I am stuck in cement. I try my hardest to escape, but each step closer puts a heavier weight on my legs. Through the despair and agony of trying to get out of this strange place that is all too familiar, I finally reach the door. I ferociously pull it open and I am back to normal. No more crying, no more questions, and no more pity.
I see me, the real me, the happy exuberant me; and that is who I am and I am good enough. I am loved. I realize the toil of asking these internal questions is a bad thing, a trap to make myself unhappy with whom I am. If you don’t like me, if you don’t think I am good enough, that’s not my problem. I shouldn’t suffer worrying about those things, although occasionally I do, and all too often it becomes a vicious cycle. My dark place is in my own head. Sometimes, it’s scary, and I dread it. But that tall, black door that towers over me, the one that creates a pathway to my own self-depreciation, will eventually be burned to the ground.
Just remember that you’re beautiful, unique and wonderful. Don’t ever forget that you are worth it.