Get over it & move on, Jesus!

Really, whatever you're going through that's got you feeling sorry for yourself, get over it! This is not the nicest thing to hear when in the middle of what you believe is a crisis but it's the most constructive three words anyone can offer you...ever. The only reason this wise proverb would sound harsh to your hurting ears and heart is because we live in a culture that encourages victimhood, where those with the most heart-wrenching story receive the most donations, sympathy, 'care', and 'love'. 

Now, because without this conditional love we might actually die, almost everyone alive at this very moment learned various tools and skills in the business of sadness paddling. So, a regular conversation between kinfolk is often laced with an underlying current of sadness. The stories we share around the dinner table when we are 'catching' up with those we haven't seen in a while are more often than not stories about our struggles, challenge and while this is perhaps not as common, we do try to out-struggle each other.

This would be harmless (not really) if these were not the stories we also tell ourselves during most of our waking hours. The small voice in my head is probably the biggest prophet of doom I know, I swear. This the voice that shouts out all my fears, overshadows joyous moments with that ever so confident "what if..." or the occasional "remember that time you failed at..." and the devilish "your mama don't even love you". This is the voice that is so skilled at fear-mongering, at paddling sadness and hate of Self. This is the collection of all beliefs I picked up through the stories I heard as a kid and soon started to adopt and re-tell as my own.

These are the stories that now have me in a chokehold. They have me believing that I have nothing to offer this world if it's not tied to an institution, a figure of authority, or can be measured with currency. I have a voice in my head that sounds much like my mother, telling me that my needs and desires are less important than her own. With this voice, I have learned to shrink myself with an incredible skill of people-pleasing, so much so that saying no to someone's request has even caused physical discomfort in me. Another voice is that of my father, telling me that it's okay to have a voice in the world but I better lose it when I come home. This is the voice that's kept me from writing for so long. This is the voice that tells me that no one is interested in what I have to say. There's also the voice of my Inner Child, who is burdened by the trauma of growing up with narcissistic parents, an inner child who is constantly offering me the only coping mechanisms she knows; victimhood, conformity, and the occasional ghosting of everyone who does not indulge these self-limiting patterns.

And this, the awareness that these voices and their stories are not my own is the first step I'm taking to 'getting' over all of my bullshit. 

I wrote this after this 'aha' moment hit, it inspired by one of my favorite Big Sean's songs so amply titled 'Voices in my head/stick to the plan'. If you're so unlucky and haven't heard it, here's a link to it: https://open.spotify.com/track/2pzuU8vLaG8W1P31X65ZP9

Voices in my head say 
I could do better 

Voices in my head say 
that I knew better 

Voices in my head 

have nothing to do

With Me 
They are the sounds of 

programming installed 

Without Me 

They are the noise  concealing
The beat of my heart

My true voice  

One that makes not a sound 

But a vibration felt