I know myself as a failure. That’s how I recognize myself the best.

Not good enough, inadequate…an imposter in my own life.

No matter what role in life I take on, I’ll never do it justice.

A mom? Please. Not good enough. You’re lucky they’re still here. Still okay. Not to mention the fucked up genetic disorder you yourself handed all 3 of them on a silver platter. I do everything I can for them. My every waking moment is in service to them. But I’ll never feel like I’ve done enough. I always feel like I’ve done something wrong.

A wife? What, are you kidding me? It’s a literal miracle that he loves you. And I’ll never understand it. He deserves so much better. I’ll never deserve his seemingly undying love. He’ll never have a negative thing to say about me. But will I ever believe him?

A friend? I do the best I can, but let’s be real…is that anywhere near enough? I’ve lost enough friends to suicide to take it personally. I need to do more. Do better. But I just don’t know how.

An addict. That, I have down. That, I have succeeded at. I’ve successfully given in and given up to the addict tendencies. I used to fight the label, fight the description. But now I fit the definition so well it’s honestly laughable.

I hate this, I hate this so much.

It’s late at night after a long ass day.

A couple drinks in and feeling good. I don’t need another one. I can stop here. It’s not too late to stop.

But then I pour another anyway.

And I regret it.

And I drink it anyway.

A failure at its finest.

Fighting this fucked up urge every single night.

And failing.

My days are filled with taking care of others. With surviving. With trying to fill the cups of everyone around me, while feeling so empty myself.

I’m trying to numb this immense pain in the only way I know how.

My life has been one of trauma and pain and suffering.

Of rape, of loss, of the threat of my children dying at a very young age due to their genetic disorder….my life has been abuse and pain and heartache.

And alcohol? It’s been there.

It’s been there since I was 15 years old and no one else was.

And it’s still here now.

Except for now, I have people that love me. I have my husband. I have my kids. I’m not fundamentally alone. In theory, I have support.

Yet, I still have pain. And I am still weak.

I’m still suffering.

I am still a failure.

I guess that’s the only me I’ll ever know.

9 thoughts on “Failure”

  1. While I crave food to feel better, I totally understand it! The self hate at times. The feelings of not being enough. Starting to care less about yourself. Filling the holes your life has with something to feel whole again. But it’s almost never anything positive we fill the holes with. And often it’s addictive. The thing we use, the feeling when those holes are being filled… And we suffer again, old holes tear open, new ones are created. And we crave again to fill those spaces and again we take the things not good for us. But how can it be bad as we feel better while filling the holes? How can it not be OK? We convince our selves while slowly letting the holes take over…
    I totally understand and I hope you know you’re not alone in this fight! 🤗 ♥

      1. Ow that would be the ultimate goal ♥ to fix them altogether. 😊 I’m sure we’ll be able to find ways that work for us. We fall, we make mistakes, and we learn and grow. Look at all you know now that you didn’t yesterday. It may seem unimportant but in the end, all the small things matter more than we may believe… 😊 ♥

  2. I used to work with a life coach (she has since changed careers, unfortunately) who would have me answer these questions about those kind of thoughts: Why do I think this? What is my answer based on? Why should it be true? Says who? Then I had to redefine the negative thought. I did that a lot for a few years. Now it is automatic.

    Addiction is a disease of shame. Don’t let it win.

    1. It definitely feels shamefeful.
      My therapist has me “challenging the thoughts” which I guess is kind of the same thing. I’m really bad at it, but at least I actively try to do it

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: