What if certain people are right: I'm just trash & will never amount to anything (last phrase: voice of my mother)?
What if I'm too clueless to understand how to operate in "the real world?"
What if my productions are not broadcast-worthy?
What if I can't get comfortable with mixing?
What if I can't sell a damn thing?
What if the people who've shown faith in me are disappointed?
What if my advisor wakes up and realizes I'm a loser, and withdraws support and equipment?
What if I really AM too weird to socialize?
What if I screw up, big time, again?
What if I'm too damaged to swim in the deep end?
What if some external factor, which I can't see coming (like sickness, eviction, legal problems, etc) suddenly disrupts everything and I have to let people down or miss deadlines?
That cold, dark place whispers to me: you're not going to make it; you're kidding yourself; you're too stupid; you're too ugly; you're too crazy.....
It's trying to seduce me back into my damn ghettoized, crippled isolation.
It's right here, with me. I can smell it. Literally: my body smells different since this started.
It hates me. It wants me to fail. It rejoices in my setbacks. It encourages me to give up and, if I won't, tempts me to screw up.
It's Mom. I know it is! It's sick and sadistic, cruel and jealous. It doesn't want to share me with the Light, with Love, with Community.
I have to fight. I don't know how, but I've got to get through this!
It'll kill me, if I let it.
That computer and mic, sitting in my living room, that means Life.
I'm afraid to go near it tonight; I'm afraid of damaging it. Honest to goodness, I am.
I feel dirty and ugly, with this self loathing.
I'm taking baby steps: catching up on chores & emails. I'm moving very slowly and deliberately, so I won't bump into anything--especialy around the table with The Computer on it.
It's sickening, this presence in me.
I have to be kind to myself. Not self endulgent, trying to cover up with some addictive type behavior.
I have to be gentle with myself. I have to forgive myself for being human and traumatized and vulnerable and insecure.
I'm not sure I really know how to do this.
I need to rescue myself from that Monster Voice my mother taught me.
I'm really scared!
I think I'll take a shower and have a good cry.
Yeah, crying seems to be helping. There's grief in it: old grief of a small girl, terrified, alone and facing a shrieking, punching demon who is her mother.
That poor kid! I need to go to her, comfort her, protect her from that sick bitch.
I need to "kill" my mother.
I don't know how, but I have to do this!
I must put that sickness behind me!
That child I was, this woman I am, we deserve better.
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