This is Me Talking Myself Out of Quitting

I'm trying to take every day as a new opportunity to remain committed to myself.

Does that mean it doesn't hurt when friends and family and people who have always claimed to "love me" don't support my endeavors or look for new content from me or listen to my podcast or read my blog? Heck no. It hurts worse than anything. There's this demon in my head that absolutely just thrives off of the abandonment wound in me. He digs his teeth into it and shakes hard to make sure I feel the sting of rejection and remain sensitive to the grotesque feeling of being alone, unimportant, a nothing.

Over the course of my life, I've listened to that demon. I've never put myself out there in any way that wasn't safe and secure or a sure thing. All the opportunities that I've come by have, in their own way, been self-fulfilling prophecies --meaning, I would only take something on if I already knew I was needed or wanted. My previous position working at a particular Catholic Church was like that: I was a shoe-in for the job. I was a no-brainer because of my talent. To them I was an answer to prayer, and to myself I couldn't fail or feel rejected. Subconsciously, I would always be looking for where I was most approved of or most needed or most appreciated and stay there, and that's what I did at this job.

And do you know what happened? I wasn't rejected. I was applauded and complimented and told how awesome I am. I was praised and placed in seats of honor. Great! Right?

No. Because you know what else also happened? I became a product there. People loved me because of this one thing that I was really good at and that I was gifted with. They loved me because of a feeling I gave them or a "place" I took them in their emotional senses. And I would lean into that identity that they seemed to like. I did more of what they enjoyed, and I excelled at it, and I became this person who could fit into any box at any time under any circumstance. I had no needs, I wasn't extra, and I didn't make a lot of fuss. And people loved that. They loved that I was always available. They loved that I didn't make many demands and that I was "easy to work with". They loved that I could perform and make beautiful things happen for them.

But they didn't love me. They didn't even know me. Surprise, surprise, I was still being rejected, only this time I was advocating for it myself by making myself fit into every possible box. I was steadily cutting myself down into bite-size pieces, easy to swallow but never fully whole. So this incredible sense of never being loved began to sneak in.

And of course I could never be loved if I wasn't allowing myself to be known.

So when I was fired, it came as somewhat of a complete shock. Of course this was around the time where I began speaking up more and demanding a little bit more from other people. I started rocking the boat because how I saw myself was beginning to change. It's funny how when you begin to take yourself seriously, people begin to distance themselves from you.

In a way, it was exactly a confirmation of everything I already felt. They didn't love me. I was just a product. And when a product begins to cause "problems" for you, what do you do? You throw it away and replace it. This is essentially what happened. That's another story for another day.

It's been a long, long road over the last year to get to where I am today. I'm trying new things now, things that I've always wanted to do --start a podcast, pursue my writing interests, make my own way, and go against the grain of what others think I should be doing with my time or my life. And it's really hard, guys. Every day is its own struggle to push past the negativity of that demon in my head: "you think anyone will ever love you? You really think people want to hear what you have to say? You know you're just fooling yourself right?"

I wake up with those thoughts in my head every day. It's such a task sometimes to push past them, and I think part of pushing past them is redirecting that bad, negative energy into creation and into remembering why I'm even doing this:

Because I want to love myself the same way I'm always loving everyone else. I want to see my flaws and my struggles and tell myself "it's okay, I love you for who you are, not for what you can do for me." I want to support myself and cheer for myself the way I've never felt from anyone else. Because I'm highly favored in God's eyes, so who am I to call him a liar by treating myself like trash. Because I've always deserved being known and being seen and being loved.

And so do you.

-Martina