I’m struck by how short a distance there is between “I don’t like how I am made to live” and “I don’t like myself,” and given all the value judgments in childhood about how being good would have kept me safe, there really wasn’t a way I could’ve retained any self-esteem whatsoever.
mh journaling stuff gets long
and then I think of the hierarchy of human needs. I didn't have enough food; I certainly didn't feel safe; I was semi-intentionally isolated and my personality pushed under to serve others' needs; I was handed religion which wasn't an option I could explore, or it was actively hostile.
I was NOT going to charge out of this, achieve financial and emotional success by the age of 28.
And if it sounds like I'm trying to feel better about how I'm a disposable nothing in this society/feeling endangered by this/far from doing a lot of things I want to do, slammed home by yet another birthday, you're right actually; I am.
