I like to beat up on myself. A lot. I find it much easier to get angry at myself or to put myself down than doing it to someone else. Even things I'm not at fault for.
I guess I'm a self-bully. I don't bully others. That does nothing for me. But, me, yeah, she deserves all the bullying in the world sometimes.
I've been in a very weird mood since yesterday. Something about unpacking boxes and being forced to look at your past. It floors me. It makes me beat myself up. It makes me just wish I'd thrown the whole box away. On accident. Just so I wouldn't have to torture myself. Rifle through something that doesn't even matter to me anymore.
Kevin said something to me yesterday that made me think of it in a different light. Just for a minute anyways. He told me that those chapters are behind me and that we're working on making our own new chapters. That I didn't have to worry about the way things were.
That put me at ease. A little. I still can't overcome this feeling. This attitude that I've taken against myself. I've gone from beating myself up over what was in a box to beating myself up because I was beating myself up. Does that make sense? No. Oh, well, welcome to my life.
I think the cold weather has me down. I know it's finally here to stay. I'm trying to get used to it. It's a good way to clear the cobwebs that gathered during the summer. And now that everything is unpacked and there are no more boxes of the past to go through, I can finally rest.
I just wish I could shake this attitude. How is it that I can be so pleasant on the outside and so hateful on the inside? To myself?
I wish I loved myself as much as I loved others. And I'm working on it. Honest.