Despicable Me


This isn’t a movie review.

If that’s what you’re looking for, sorry to disappoint.

I’m writing about this against my better judgement.  But I figure that with 6 billion people on the planet there’s bound to be one person who feels the same way.  Of course, with the all of 4 people or so who read my blog that does narrow down the odds a bit.  But maybe I should explain myself anyway and let the chips fall where they may.

I have no troubles with telling people about the things that I’m good at.  I will tell them how I excelled in school as a child and have been singing in public most of my life and people like to listen to me.  I will tell them that I’ve always been a good ear; someone people could come to with their troubles and how I’m good at being empathetic and making them feel better.  I’ll tell them of how I’m a pretty good writer; I’ve written some pretty good poems and stories over the years and I’ve been doing it since I was big enough to hold a pencil.

Some people, I’m sure, have thought I was bragging about myself.  In all honesty, I really don’t think I ever have.  I’m honest about what I’m good at.  I’m not bragging, I’m being honest.

I know some people haven’t like me because of what I’m good at.  They didn’t like me because they were jealous of my talents or they thought I was full of myself.

I’m okay with people not liking me for those reasons.

It’s the underneath stuff that I’m not okay with.

Why do I like to tell people what I’m good at?

I don’t want them to know what a loser I am.

I don’t want them to know how easily I’m offended by what people say, intentionally or unintentionally, to me.

I don’t want them to know that an intentional or unintentional snub will hurt me deeply.

I don’t want people to know that it takes very little from them to make me feel like I don’t matter; like I’m crap that means nothing to no one.

I don’t want people to know that it will take very little from them to make me feel like they’re mocking me.

I don’t want people to know that I’m immature and foolish and seldom do anything right.

I don’t want people to know that even though I’m 38 and a big woman I feel like a helpless and weak 5-year-old girl.

I don’t want people to know me from the inside.

And when I feel any of these things I want to run away and hole up in my house and not talk to anyone ever.

It’s pretty pathetic.

I hate being such a loser.  But these things about me just won’t change.

My daughter has recently been telling me things like: “I’m so happy I have such a great mom.”  “You’re the best mom.”  “You’re such a great gift!”  “I love you very, very, very, very, much.”

She’s 5 years old.

It’s really sweet to hear things like that from her.  But I know that in 10 years she’ll probably hate me, so I don’t find it as uplifting to my self-esteem as I’d like it to be.

I know how very much God loves me.  I will never understand why.

I wish I could feel that people loved me the same way.

I wish I could love myself the same way.

Of course, I don’t always feel this bad about myself.  It happens once in a while.  I assume I let my guard down and satan prodded me in the usual spot.

I wish I could keep my guard up all the time.  I don’t know how I keep dropping it.

I have felt so dragged out and uninterested and lethargic over the last week or so.  I’d rather just play video games on my computer than do anything productive.  I couldn’t write anything yesterday.  The day before, I was able to spend some time with a friend who was feeling low.  Lifting her spirits (at least I think I did, I hope I did) lifted mine – for a short while.  The next day (yesterday) I felt low again.

I’m so tired of this back and forth.  I wish the enemy would just leave me alone.

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About Sharon

Check out my "A Bit About Me" tab to learn a bit about me
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One Response to Despicable Me

  1. Pingback: Comments anyone? | For What It's Worth (The Gozette)

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