On Punishing Myself with Self-Hatred and Why I am Here for You!
I preach to y’all all.the.time to be positive with your thoughts and don’t talk to yourself in a mean way. And there I was, packing for our trip to Colorado, calling myself all kinds of horrible names (which I will not say here because this is a place of love and positivity) and mad at my husband for not cleaning the house when he had no idea I felt it had to be spotless before we left. Just letting this anger and negativity grow and grow.
You see, I’d had a funk of a day. My mood was just weird and then I worked later than expected. So, my plans to get the house spotless and pack with Trey were dead. And in my whirlwind to get my work done I hadn’t expressed to my sweet husband (who had done the dishes before I got home because he knew I would love that and because he is wonderful and amazing!) that I wanted him to clean the house some to help me, because I hate, HATE -no- loathe, coming home to a dirty house after a trip. He knew none of that. And yet I was punishing him with silence, snide comments, and cold stares.
In all actuality, I was pissed off at myself for not having enough time to do everything I needed to do. The day before, Tuesday, my work took longer than planned, and then I procrastinated that morning (Wednesday) because I was in an anti-social mood and had to go out into the world and go photograph strangers for my project (which is my heart and soul. But I really wanted to not talk to people that day. Hormones and all…). So by the time I finished work it was late. Really late and we now had an hour to get our shit together. And that was not enough time to pack and get the house spotless. So I got pissed, and then I blamed it on Trey.
And then, I went to start packing and hated all of my clothes. Not really, I was just mad because I couldn’t find anything for a summer wedding that I liked. I tried on this one dress that, a month ago, fit like a glove. I was sexy as hell in it. It wouldn’t zip up. Cue the horrible words I said to myself that I will never type out. I won’t give them that dignity. Plus, they were incredibly awful phrases that should never enter anyone's mind.
I even thought to myself “I tell all my clients and readers to NEVER entertain these thoughts I am thinking at this very moment. I KNOW better. I wrote the effing book on knowing better, sorta.” And then I kept on. Because sitting there saying horrendous things about myself and letting my anger stew was easy and it felt good. It felt good because it was easy and because I was punishing myself for being a ‘screw up’ and not planning far enough ahead and detailed enough to where I didn’t end up in this panicked state of rushing and not sleeping to get it all done.
Let me say that again, I was punishing myself by calling myself names. I believed I deserved to be called those names and so I kept doing it until I felt teeny tiny and my amazing husband somehow saw it and he just walked over and held me. And then he was my ‘me’. He was telling me the exact things I tell y’all constantly. He even said “your body is beautiful. It is the vessel given to you to love others and that is what you do.” And I am so thankful God used him in that moment. He brought me back to sanity. To a place where I didn’t want to punish myself anymore.
We all need someone to bring us back to sanity and to love because sometimes it's just very hard to do it for ourselves. That’s why I write, that’s why I photograph. Some people don’t have that and I know those people and I have wept for them in the quiet of room and car. Because no one had ever told them they were beautiful or that they deserved to be loved and love themselves. And that is an injustice I am here to fight like hell against!