I kicked the laminate wood door in a fit of rage.
Blind with anger, I brought my foot up and thrust it against the door as if I was a detective in a hurry to make an arrest.
I knew this was childish, but my heart hurt. I couldn’t handle what I was feeling. I just wanted to be held and feel your warmth and security.
All I heard in my head was, “You aren’t good enough to be cared for. You are better off alone”
I feel ashamed for acting the way I did, exhausted that this is how I always feel and the constant need to fight myself, and most of all, I feel lonely.
I often wish I could edit my life; highlight and erase the negative thoughts:
“You aren’t good enough.”
Highlight and erase the inconvenient and exhausting feelings that weigh me down each day making it hard to get out of bed.
As I sit isolated behind this do-it-yourself wall built entirely of “I’m Fine” bricks held together with the familiar “I’m Better Off Alone” cement, I am dangerously content in the security I have made for myself.
I appear for air only when I sense another genuine soul, even then, only showing my soul for a second before ducking behind the wall again.
This is not a solution I wish to hold on to for the rest of time. I search for the strength to not hide my hurt, to be brave, and to find my people.
I want to be kind, loving, and patient, and what I feel like comes out are terse words and judgmental actions, and impatience with people.
I am working to deconstruct this wall one brick at a time. I let feelings come and wash over me and I am honest about them. I slowly start to talk about my feelings, acknowledging this wall, and creating my own anthem:
You are kind.
You are smart.
You are important.
You are a fucking badass.
My wall is a mile high, but now I have windows that let in the fresh air of a good world that still exists.