From my journal for Friday, November 17
I’m feeling very empty — not in a good way — this is more lack of meaning and connection. On my list for this week is get help for my cell phone from Don Vogt. I realize that I’ve got to the “conclude I can’t do it” phase with my new phone.
Dear Inner Teacher, I’m really hating myself right now. I desperately need some help.
Dear Jenny, there are a lot of spirits that love you, and we are sorry that you are feeling so bad about yourself. This has been a hard passage. You have been alone too much and Erica has been away. It’s unfortunate that writing group hasn’t met, in some ways that has been the worst loss. Your friend’s comment about being left on the bench was unfortunate because you heard your mother’s voice making you wrong. Dear Jenny, let yourself feel our compassion. How would you feel if someone told you she was feeling desperately lonely and worthless? Yes, your heart would go right out to that person. It’s OK, dear, you will come out of this. Yes, do the dances to These are the Days and Il Cantico.
I had been thinking that it was my friend’s comment that had made me feel so bad for several weeks. Also the loss of Erica and writing group. But typing up this part of my journal helped me see something else. I expect that concluding I couldn’t do something activated a part whose influence made me feel like a complete failure. I started feeling like I couldn’t do anything right. I barely spoke for three weeks.
The reason I would “conclude I can’t do it” was because, when I was a child, I was having trouble doing a project, and my father said “If you didn’t know how to do it, why did you even try?” I had asked for help, but he essentially made me wrong for asking for help. I don’t remember my parents ever helping me with anything. I ended up believing that if I wanted anything to get done, I had to do it myself. This turns out to be one of the most pernicious things I learned from my parents.
Just happened to look at the last paragraph of that journal entry:
The movie was a documentary about tigers. They are beautiful animals. There was one picture of many tigers in cages. Painful. Made me think of the tiger who was given a larger space, but continued to pace the same small rectangle.
Sounds just like me, still concluding I can’t do it, still living a smaller life because that’s all the space my parents gave me.