Sometimes I think pride is a terrible thing.
It figures that it's one of the seven sins but personally I think it's one of the worst ones to have. I only think this becase I have long realised that, while I am not perfect, I do try my best to be good. But the one thing I cannot bring myself to doing is to admitting I need help. I will do whatever is possible myself first before I seek others' help. Like money, for one. I'd rather not go out or not buy anything at all and above all else, I'd rather not borrow or be indebted to anyone if I could help it. Heck, I don't even ask my parents for money. Even when they offer it to me, I drag my feet in accepting it. They've offered to pay off my loans, my education fees. The've even offered to pay for my Masters but I'm dragging my feet because I haven't paid off my loans yet. And when they do pay for me, I feel so ashamed that I refuse to look them in the eye for a while. It really is horrible to be too proud. When I have a problem, I don't ask anyone for help. I actually psych myself up to overcome the problem before anyone even knows I have it. The times that I've been depressed and taken a knife to my wrist (the right way!) nobody knew because I didn't ask for help. Why? Because it felt like such an attention whore thing. And I don't like being the center of attention. So I talked and deluded myself out of the depression. I did all that positve thinking thing everyone talks about. My hormones still go haywire and I still get depressed but I walk away from it. I know my depression is still bad because every month I think about breaking up with Shook and running away from everyone because I think everyone hates me. (Well, they would have to hate you when they start asking why you would want to hang out wth them, wouldn't they?)
The other thing I am which I have slowly overcomed is my possessiveness. When I was in college, I hated anyone who tried to be friends with my friends. In fact, I detested it when other people tried to join my group of friends. I would ignore them or pout or even be mean to the new people. The thing is I knew I was doing it. But at that time, I didn't stop myself. I hated mysef for it but I did it anyway. Then I would try to get attention by making a big deal out of not joining them or making huge excuses why I don't like doing what they are doing. Looking back at it now, it seemed so juvenile.
They all come together, you know. My possessiveness led to me thinking people hate me. Which led me to being depressed. Which made me hate them and myself. Which brought to thoughts of suicide.
I was too proud to admit I was the one at fault.
Well, eventually I admitted it to myself first and foremost. Then I decided to be nice to other people. Unconditionally nice. If they didn't return the feeling or sentiment, then I figured it was their problem, not mine. But I tried and I still try. It hurts when people don't act as nice to you as you do to them. Sometimes it's their fault. Sometimes it's yours. Once we figure out which is which, then maybe we can start loving ourselves more.
I do the best that I can. I juggle my career, my family, my love, my friends and my interests to the best of my ability.
If people don't like me for who I am, it doesn't matter sometimes. I love who I am. I could be better and so I try to be better. But if people want to avoid me or say bad things about me or have bad thoughts about me when I've done nothing to them, then maybe they should start to think more rationally. After all, we only reflect our mental age through our behaviour not through our birth dates.
It figures that it's one of the seven sins but personally I think it's one of the worst ones to have. I only think this becase I have long realised that, while I am not perfect, I do try my best to be good. But the one thing I cannot bring myself to doing is to admitting I need help. I will do whatever is possible myself first before I seek others' help. Like money, for one. I'd rather not go out or not buy anything at all and above all else, I'd rather not borrow or be indebted to anyone if I could help it. Heck, I don't even ask my parents for money. Even when they offer it to me, I drag my feet in accepting it. They've offered to pay off my loans, my education fees. The've even offered to pay for my Masters but I'm dragging my feet because I haven't paid off my loans yet. And when they do pay for me, I feel so ashamed that I refuse to look them in the eye for a while. It really is horrible to be too proud. When I have a problem, I don't ask anyone for help. I actually psych myself up to overcome the problem before anyone even knows I have it. The times that I've been depressed and taken a knife to my wrist (the right way!) nobody knew because I didn't ask for help. Why? Because it felt like such an attention whore thing. And I don't like being the center of attention. So I talked and deluded myself out of the depression. I did all that positve thinking thing everyone talks about. My hormones still go haywire and I still get depressed but I walk away from it. I know my depression is still bad because every month I think about breaking up with Shook and running away from everyone because I think everyone hates me. (Well, they would have to hate you when they start asking why you would want to hang out wth them, wouldn't they?)
The other thing I am which I have slowly overcomed is my possessiveness. When I was in college, I hated anyone who tried to be friends with my friends. In fact, I detested it when other people tried to join my group of friends. I would ignore them or pout or even be mean to the new people. The thing is I knew I was doing it. But at that time, I didn't stop myself. I hated mysef for it but I did it anyway. Then I would try to get attention by making a big deal out of not joining them or making huge excuses why I don't like doing what they are doing. Looking back at it now, it seemed so juvenile.
They all come together, you know. My possessiveness led to me thinking people hate me. Which led me to being depressed. Which made me hate them and myself. Which brought to thoughts of suicide.
I was too proud to admit I was the one at fault.
Well, eventually I admitted it to myself first and foremost. Then I decided to be nice to other people. Unconditionally nice. If they didn't return the feeling or sentiment, then I figured it was their problem, not mine. But I tried and I still try. It hurts when people don't act as nice to you as you do to them. Sometimes it's their fault. Sometimes it's yours. Once we figure out which is which, then maybe we can start loving ourselves more.
I do the best that I can. I juggle my career, my family, my love, my friends and my interests to the best of my ability.
If people don't like me for who I am, it doesn't matter sometimes. I love who I am. I could be better and so I try to be better. But if people want to avoid me or say bad things about me or have bad thoughts about me when I've done nothing to them, then maybe they should start to think more rationally. After all, we only reflect our mental age through our behaviour not through our birth dates.
6:50 pm |
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