“There is stability in self-destruction, in prolonging sadness as a means of escaping abstractions like happiness. Rock bottom is a surprisingly comfortable place to lay your head. Looking up from the depths of another low often seems a lot safer than wondering when you’ll fall again. Falling feels awful.

I’d rather fucking fly.” 

Kris Kidd

One of the many reasons I started this blog was my ability to utilize it as a tool for accountability. My peers could now assist in holding me accountable for writing because I’m clearly not capable of doing it on my own. I mean, I am, technically, capable. I just suck at it. I know writing is good for me. I know I should write for me and only me, but I also know myself well enough that I know I’ll start slacking off without someone holding me accountable. Writing for yourself is nice, but what’s the point if no one ever reads the dumb shit that comes out of your messy disaster of a brain? Yes, I can do it on my own, for myself. But it’s better when I know someone actually gives a fucking shit about the stuff I’m creating, or lack thereof. Someone to check in after three weeks of no blog posts to say, “Hey, what the fuck? I need you to write.” Lucky for me, I have that accountability. She’s a really great person and I’m so appreciative of her friendship. So, BOOM. Here I am. Writing.

I’ve been in a strange place the last month. Lost in my head. And I’ve known the entire time that I should just sit down and start writing, but I’ve been avoiding it. Part of it has been conscious, and the other part subconscious. Every morning, I tell myself, “I will write today.” And then I find a million different distractions and excuses of why I could not make it happen. I know what’s happening. I’ve been here before.

Self-sabotage is a dirty bitch.

I mean, sabotage in general is pretty nasty. Intentionally fucking up someone else’s shit? Okay. But self-sabotage? Actively seeking to fuck up your own shit? Harsh, man. I’ve been known to self-sabotage a relationship or two because I didn’t feel I was deserving of the type of love or affection I was getting. I didn’t feel I was worth love or kindness or anything nice. I’ve said in the past that my brain is broken. I have lots of proof my brain is all sorts of fuckered.

I’ve been trying to organize my thoughts the past few weeks and too many things keep happening. I’m in a state of constant distraction and I have a hard time focusing on simple tasks. I’ve spent so much time overthinking that my brain now feels stuck… like it’s running on a loop at 1000 mph and I can’t get it to slow down enough to write one stupid post. Even when I do get in front of the computer, I can’t seem to slow my brain down enough to get a clear thought. How much caffeine am I drinking every day? It’s literally taken me three days to get this far. Good god.

My internal battles with self-worth and overthinking would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with if I weren’t so cozy with little Miss Self-Sabotage. I know I should write to help process my feelings, help me understand why I’m feeling the way I am, and just to fucking vent about the bullshit that is going on in my life and the whole goddamn world… but I know it will help, and therefore, I avoid it. Perhaps self-sabotage played a little part in why I stopped writing after my mom died… not just because I had lost my cheerleader, but also because part of me knew it could help and I didn’t want to be helped. Maybe I wanted to suffer. Maybe I thought I deserved misery and I was avoiding all roads to recovery. And maybe, part of me wants to continue to suffer in misery. Why? Because that’s what I’m used to. It’s comfortable. I’ve been depressed and miserable for so long that it’s become my “normal,” and any amount of healing or change in emotional well-being is still a new concept and absolutely terrifying. Of course I want to heal… but I’m still dealing with these constant internal brain battles in an attempt to rebalance my emotional scales. I still have to convince myself that change is a good thing.

And change is a good thing. I already know this. I already fight for this, especially now, with everything that is currently going on in the world. Change is essential for growth and progress. So why is it so hard for me to grasp this concept internally and on an emotional level? Why do I so desperately seek to destroy anything good that comes to me, any progress, happiness, healing, or positivity?

“I wish I could change everything about myself but it’s just—it’s too late to do anything, that’s the problem. It’s all so fucked up, and I just don’t who I am anymore, you know? Like, who is this person who made all these choices that I just have to live with? I look back at that person and I hate her, I hate her so much for what she did to me, that person is like my nemesis, my worst enemy, but the problem is, that person is me.” 

 Kristen Roupenian, You Know You Want This

My self-sabotage isn’t just about the attempt to maintain my “normal” state of misery. We also seek to destroy what we hate… and I carry a ton of self-hatred. I’m unsure at what point it was born, or why it came to be, for I am still unraveling the mysteries of Megan. But I know the self-hatred exists. It affects my confidence and worth, and therefore it affects how I speak, act, and present myself. I constantly feel like I’m either not enough or I was “too much,” which then leads to many sleepless nights with a brain that refuses to turn off. I’m a very open person and I tend to overshare in social situations. I also judge myself harshly, and when I am allowed to settle back into my quiet introverted hermit life, I tend to sit and criticize myself for how much I opened up to people when it might have been better if I had stayed a little more reserved. I feel stupid for how I may have acted, even if no one else thought I acted abnormal or out of character. For me, in my eyes, I should have been better. And instead of taking it as a learning experience and saying, “I will be better next time,” I simply just tell myself I’m worthless, stupid, and continue to feed the self-hatred.

You may be reading this wondering why I continue to engage in self-sabotaging behavior, when I fully recognize what I’m doing. Good fucking question. It’s probably one of the reasons why I desperately need to go back into therapy, but that’s another thing I’m actively avoiding. Sometimes I know immediately when I am sabotaging, and other times it’s buried and it takes me a bit of digging and self-analyzing in order to reach the conclusion of why I haven’t been able to succeed at anything. I’m constantly learning. And I have learned that I continue to self-sabotage because of two reasons: fear and control. I’m terrified of feeling different. I’m scared of success and positive emotional change. Things that are different are unknown. And things that are unknown, I have no control over. Because of the lack of control I had with the traumatic events that shaped my childhood, I now try to control as much of my life as I possibly can. Because I don’t want to feel that way again. I don’t want that feeling of hopelessness that I can’t do dick about. If I am left feeling hopeless, it’s because I had control over that situation and I made myself feel that way. It hits different when you make yourself feel it versus someone or something else. You can own it.

I have control issues.

I attempt to control literally everything around me. Every relationship, how people feel about me, perceive me, how coworkers do their work, how the dishes are done, and the bed is made… I could go on forever about all the little details in my life that I try to control. I’m the primary communicator in many of my friendships… the one that checks in and tries to keep the friendship going, coordinate get-togethers, and attempt to maintain control over the health and quality of the relationship. How many of my “friendships” would be lost if I stopped reaching out? Do they really qualify as a friendship then? I constantly put energy into keeping these relationships going, when many times I just need to let them go and walk away. I don’t know the difference between a true friendship and the people who come into your life briefly to teach a lesson. Most of the time, I don’t learn these lessons until it’s too late, and I’ve spent too much time and energy trying to keep something alive that died a long time ago. But at that point, the pain has already settled in and begun to start eating away at my self-worth, further feeding the self-hatred, self-doubt, and fear of failure.

I recognize my behavior. Even though I am actively sabotaging myself, my goals, and many of my relationships, I am also actively trying to be better. I’m trying to do better. I’m making the effort to recognize the behavior as I see it, correct it, and move forward instead of letting it manifest itself further into destruction, hatred, and judgement. I’m working on letting things go, letting people go that no longer serve a purpose. If they don’t want to make an effort, then I’m no longer going to put the energy into the relationship. I’m tired of being ghosted by people who I thought cared about me. I’m tired of caring about people who don’t give two fucks about me. Why do I give them my energy? All it does is create more self-doubt and judgment in myself, thinking there’s something wrong with me, when in reality, it’s them. I was just never that important in the first place. I was never a priority, and therefore, they should not be a priority for me.

It’s funny. This whole time I’ve been so focused on being in control, not realizing how much control other people have on me. I try so hard to manage how people perceive me, terrified of their judgement, but then that perception ends up having this massive domination over how I live my life. It’s one of the things I’ve never understood about myself. Why do I care so goddamn much what other people think? Why do I fucking care? It’s none of my fucking business what they think. Ever. I spend way too much of my time worrying about bullshit that’s not worth worrying about. I’m giving too many of my fucks to the wrong things.

Do you want to know why I continue to self-sabotage? Because that’s the one thing in my life I truly have full control over. That’s it. I have control over whether or not I write, make goals, succeed, or fail. I can’t control other people, as much as I try. But by self-sabotaging, I’m able to accept the negative outcomes, knowing I’m doing it to myself. I’m controlling my own failure.

I’ve been trying to be more unapologetic lately, so I’m definitely not sorry for whatever this post has turned out to be. It’s taken me 9 days to write and it’s a fucking rollercoaster. I don’t know what it’s turned into from where I started, honestly. But this is what we’ve got. This is where I’m at. I don’t know how to make long-term goals, avoid self-destructive behavior, and prevent myself from drowning in my obsessions, but I’m fucking here. I’m living every day and trying my best to improve. I acknowledge my faults. I know I’m not perfect, even though I have lived the majority of my life attempting perfectionism. I’m a recovering perfectionist. I don’t want to strive to be perfect anymore, because there isn’t such a thing. Perfect doesn’t exist. I am human, I make mistakes, and I have flaws. I am working to redefine my “normal” and rebalance my scales. I am trying my best to learn from my imperfections. And as long as you learn something from your mistakes, then they aren’t failures… right?

Change is a good thing.