I failed.

My brain automatically responded with, “…again.” Just that added punch to the gut I didn’t already need. I was already struggling with my breath. My heart was somewhere between my ears. I was just waiting now for the other shoe to drop. A weird saying. What was wrong with the first shoe?

My mind races and I’m not competitive. I was never good at sports. The balls always found my face and despite the fact that I’m spiralling out of control I recognise the humour.

I still smile even though I’m about to crash. Hopeful? Strong? Optimistic? I don’t know what it is but I always seem to get up despite my brain telling me to stay down.

My thoughts tell me many things that others tell me are false. They say I’m not horrible. I’m a good person. I am loved. I am beautiful. I am talented and worthy. I’m strong and brave and hopeful and optimistic. I cringe at every compliment. It’s like a whip to my back. Their words are supposed to make me feel good, but as my mind is racing and I don’t want to run, their words are the whips that keep me going.

What if I stopped running though? What would that be like? A blanket on some soft grass with a tall order of iced tea? A guy flashing me his smile and his abs telling me, “Hey you’re gorgeous,” and me just slipping off my sunglasses, giving him a wink and saying, “I know.”

But that’s not how my brain works. My thoughts. They would go, “Ego. You have such an ego. Ew, get over yourself.” At the mere chance of me complimenting myself or agreeing with a compliment, my thoughts twists against me and cringe.

It’s hard to look in the mirror when all you think about is how disgusting you are. Then those other thoughts come in. THOSE terrible horrible thoughts that normally I’m pretty good at avoiding. Even as I type this up to be honest, to relate, to connect with others, I avoid thinking specifically about those thoughts. Triggering. Hurtful. Unkind. Awful. Evil.

If I were such a good person, then why do I hate myself so much. If I’m a genuine and compassionate person then why do I think such awful things about myself? Why am I kind to everyone else? Even to those who have been awful to me. But I’m not kind to the person who should be the most important being in my existence.

Me.

It’s hard to think kind things when for most of my life I had unkind people around me telling me otherwise. It’s as if they trained me to hate myself.

The bullying. The abuse. The words that apparently shouldn’t hurt me.

But they do.

Stick and stone do break bones but bones can heal with time. Mental scars can be forever. Words can be worse over time.

“No wonder you got abused. No wonder they hated you. They’re right. It is your fault. They said you should die so you should listen. You’re not worthy. Hurt yourself. Punish yourself. They hate you. You’re weird. Act like a real man. Don’t talk with your hands. Deepen your voice. Play sports. Don’t write about that. Don’t say that. Don’t love him. You’re fat and disgusting. Be thin. Why can’t you be normal? Stop smiling. There’s nothing to smile about…I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU SO MUCH.”

Round and round it goes.

But despite all that noise. Despite the avoidance of looking into a mirror. Despite how horrible I am to myself…I smile. I laugh. I find joy and love in others. I don’t know how to address the monster in the room. Except to acknowledge it. To say that it’s there. Waiting till it’s louder than I am. Till my smile falters. Till I screw up. Till I make another mistake or don’t do things the correct way.

One day I might silence that monster. Or I might be okay with it lingering in the corner. Waiting. Might set up a nice home for it. Tell it to act like what it wants me to do first. Lead by example. If this terrible horrible view of myself wants me to be such a better person, perhaps they should try it out first.

What happens when you snap?