Scars From Childhood
My roommate and I were helping her dad put up a wall and she broke the drill bit we were using. When she had to tell her dad, I said, "Can I go in another room for this?" She laughed and said that her dad wasn't like my dad. That one sentence hit me so hard, it almost physically hurt. If Oprah had been there she would have called it an aha moment. Because when I screwed up in life, my father was always there to tell me what an idiot I was.
I am a smart person. It's in my experiences. But a small part of me always thinks that I am not worth others' attention. I say I am honest, but I can't have a genuine conversation with a person, because I feel like if I let my thoughts and feelings out, they will confirm what my father, somewhat inadvertently in his defense, taught me about myself. That I can't do anything right, that I make other people's lives miserable. That I am a burden on the people around me.
I am afraid that people will see the "real" me. The complete and utter **** up that I have let my life become, not because I am happy how I am and don't care where my life is going, but because I am so afraid of screwing up that I can't bring myself to do anything that will change my life for the better. I walk around with the belief that other people see me like I see me, which pretty much guarantees complete and utter rejection.