Friday, September 03, 2010
never good enough
It is now 4:12pm. Today is one of those days.Most of the times when my depression symptoms worsen is during the late afternoon. It may come first as a panic attack, then it sinks in feelings of horrible sadness, miles worse than the latent sadness I have carried with me all my life.
This afternoon, it began just an irritation, a tiredness, but as it sinks right in, it becomes a sadness and a regret. Peeves turn to tears, anger to regret.
A regret that all my life, I have been told I am not good enough. Praise was short, my academics were average. Even in Primary 3 during streaming, everyone in my class went for the second round of testing, and some got into the GEP classes at school; I was the only one who didn't attend the second round of tests because I hadn't made the mark. My parents openly discussed sending me to an orphanage, when already I didn't have enough of them because they were unaffectionate workaholics. My best friend in the younger half of my primary school days berated me all the time, called me a wretch (my primary school mates have superb vocabulary), accusing me repeatedly of things I did not do, hit me in public. Growing up, I nearly failed my A levels, and I only got a third class honours for a basic degree. Lovers despised me and threatened to leave me over and over before finally leaving. I was made unworthy of love so many times because of some inherent weakness in me, abandoned and spurned.
This is why I try to do things perfectly or not at all. This is why I am so sensitive to criticism, because I have had so much of it. Criticism and suggestions ain't bad, but my feelings towards them ain't invalid either. It hurts, because I always try so hard.
Intellectually, I know one can never truly be good enough. Spiritually, I know I am worthy of love despite my weaknesses. But emotionally and physically the reality of unworthiness is painful, cuts to the heart, and is uninspiring.
I process these regrets and revelations, and I don't feel better.
What does help, is my medication - it makes the pain easier to bear.
Some may say, just be thankful that you are alive. I know God saved me from brink of death. Today, I think that, and I know it is supposed to be a blessing to be alive. But the feeling that thought brings is not of gratitude, but relief that I didn't die on this very day. Relief that today I don't feel overpowered by my continuous wrestle with pain and grief. Relief that I have my medication to keep me alive.