My Own Bully

They always say that you are always your hardest critique. They couldn’t be so right. Only it’s so much more aggressive than that. I am my own worst mean girl. And she doesn’t know when to stop. Once she’s wracking havoc, she doesn’t stop. She tells me the worst things. Things like: I am unworthy of being loved. That I am alone because I am too much of a broken sad girl. And that that broken sad girl loves too hard and cares too much. Nobody is going to want to deal with the too much fear, insecurity and overall her. That if she were to just disappear no one would notice. God, I hate her. I hate her ability to make me cry for hours on end hoping for a death I do not truly want. She is brilliant in the way she tears me down. And when I manage to build that sad broken girl back up to the amazing and wonderful and most of all loved woman she really is. There is that mean girl. Bringing back every reason why I must stay the sad broken girl.

I used to think that the abusive ex was the worst person I could ever have to deal with. But the reality is: I am the worst person I have to deal with. I am the nightmare that I would wish on myself. And that revelation is scary. It’s scary too look at myself and be like “Hey, you tried, but here’s the thing. You fucking hate yourself.” And this battle is so exhausting.

For a year, I used sex as my coping mechanism. I haven’t really enjoyed sex. Ever. But there I was. Sleeping with someone new every month. Who am I? And why am I still asking myself that question? Why am I still hugging the back of my couch crying? At what point do I figure out this nonsense? I’m tired of fighting myself. I’m tired of spending countless hours crying because I have managed to become my own worst enemy.

Or maybe, I’m just a drama queen and I can’t see past my selfishness to see other people. I just want to be happy again and not fear the switch to the ugly crying mess.