October 11 - Voices

October 11 - When I get quiet with myself, what voices am I hearing, and what are they telling me?

I know they if you're hearing voices you should probably see a psychologist or be committed, right. 
The ones I hear aren't that kind. They don't tell me to do something horrid to others or myself.

They do, however, tell me how worthless I am.  All about my not-enough-ness.  If you have been reading here for awhile, you know what I speak of. The ones that sound like my mother, how I'm just like my father.  Stubborn, useless, lazy, scrawny.  I was shamed for being a thin child, not having meat on my bones.  My ass was too boney.  Seriously!  Who the fuck tells a small child their ass is too boney.  My mother did. If I am stubborn like my father, then I'd like to wear it like a badge of honor.  I want to take that to mean that he resisted her bullshit at times too.

Oh how she tried to make me into a mini version of herself, spewing hatred and hating everyone and everything.  But I couldn't do it. If I couldn't rationalize why I was supposed to hate a person, group, or thing because she did, I wouldn't do it. If I went against her, I'd get the silent treatment for days. Then she'd come tear up my room with a big black garbage bag and would start to get rid of my things. I used to beg and cry, but eventually I learned that none of that would work and she would just do it anyway.

She told HIM (the not soon enough to be ex) that he would regret marrying me one day. I was lazy and good for nothing, that I didn't know how to do anything.  HE told me if I ever tried to leave him with the kids, he'd have me arrested and declared unfit.  HE told me on more than one occasion that I needed to be on medication and needed to see a shrink. And maybe I did need to see someone, but not for the reasons HE said.

I've been to counselors in school.  Out of all of them, only one was actually helping and he was transferred at the end of the school year. I tried the two that followed him, but they were more like just giving us a place to get out of class.  When I worked for Blue Cross, they had one.  I tried one visit. I remember it as the office being dimly lit and him not saying much. It was awkward and uncomfortable, I never went back. I can't remember if I tried when I was in college.  I think I did, once or twice.  I wasn't what I thought it would be either.  Eventually I just gave up with trying to talk about things with professionals.

I dance with the negative voices almost daily.  Sometimes it's a win, sometimes I lose, sometimes it's a draw because I go binge on Netflix when I don't feel like arguing with them. Sometimes the voices sound like my mother, sometimes they sound like HIM, other times like one of my other former abusers.  I think I'm getting better at telling them to fuck off. But maybe not, because if I was then maybe I wouldn't be stuck so much of the time. I don't know. Maybe I'll never be rid of them. Maybe I'll never win the battle.  Only time will tell.