Well – HELL Yeah, we ALL Matter! – HOW One of the Worst Days of my Life became One of my Best Days

This is post was originally posted on Riproarinrants.com on September 25, 2014 – also my blog – but this is a better home for it : )

Today’s Reflection – is another 10 minute free-writing for the Daily Prompt which was inspired by the beautiful post in the link below.  The 10 minute exercise took place in the comments section, which evolved into this more extensive post.  Please check out:



It’s like you read my mind!!! For the past week, I have been reflecting upon “significance” … my fancy word for “mattering.” I believe this doubting of worth and feeling as if one is insignificant or doesn’t matter in the world is a major destructive force in humanity, that is really under-valued.  (Value in relation to its power)  I believe this feeling of insignificance is the very thing that drives so much evil in the world. As you said, when we aren’t being conscious about this particular psychic pain – we are compelled to take it out on ourselves or on people and the world outside our skin – or on both. Eeek!

Here are two of my PSYCHIC STOP-SIGNS –  when I am starting to engage in self-hate.

1) Would I say the same things to a friend? HELLLL, no! … So I tell Negative Nellie – to Shut the F- up!

2) I remember a powerful lesson, I learned from initiating an extreme psychological experiment in survival where I was Guinea Pig – numero uno.  – About 15 years ago,  on a dreary, grey, cold winter day (which is not only trite, but VERY true – it was all those things) 6 months after my divorce, an identity crisis, living in the thick of poverty, missing my old life terribly and not quite sure  – what the hell I was doing in this new one : working as an over-educated housecleaner  out in the boonies, socially isolated except for two cats… and feeling like SHIT. Not just one thing went wrong with my life, but EVERYTHING went wrong … How could I be such a colossal failure, smart as I supposedly was?  And I was punishing, punishing, punishing myself like a sadistic Nazi interrogating a victim about WHY they matter in the world … and when the torture victim refuses or can’t tell him the truth, the Nazi provides yet ANOTHER soul-scorching reason why the victim really DOESN’T deserve to live. (Again – VERY trite … but again really, really very true).

And in between my howling and weeping from my own self-torture, a piercing point of lucidity cut through that crap – like a voice from an angel – and I had the terrifying epiphany that in this state of emotion/mind I couldn’t be entrusted with my very own life.  This sort of self-sadistic behavior was me pushing myself toward suicide cliff.  (I have never actually arrived there … but I can’t count the times that I have shoved myself toward that edge)  And to counteract the lethal thoughts of –  “It is so painful and I feel so worthless, I really should end it all. ”  I realized something else – Not ONLY did I have the capacity to be self-sadist extraordinaire, but I also had the capacity to be my own redemptive savior.  And it was TIME for my savior to kick in – NOW!  It was super-self-hero time!

My super-self-hero didn’t get all Ninja on the Nazi self-hating sadist, because that would have just been piling more self-loathing fixings onto my  Stinky Sandwich of I-hate-myself-and-my-life.  Instead  SHH (Super-Self-Hero) offered up some logic … Before you are given the permission to take yourself out, you must gain evidence that you are truly worth nothing, from reputable sources outside yourself.

At the time, I was writing a blog before blogs … somehow a group of about 20 friends (some virtual, and some real-world besties) had committed themselves to receiving my daily reflections which I would forward to them via email.

So I decided to gather the “evidence of worthiness” by sending out my psychic SOS  (the pre-suicide cry for help) Informing them, that I  urgently needed them to tell me – IF I matter to them (And this, of course was a no-brainer, because why would they be reading my posts if I didn’t .. but this self-hate campaign is delusional after all) and for them to share with me WHY.

I was literally throwing myself – a wretched soul upon their screen begging for mercy.  I realized how heartbreakingly vulnerable and awkward an experiment this was – but both SHH and the Nazi assured me that I NEEDED to know the Truth, no matter what.  In this, they were both united.  And we all waited for the ANSWER to come.  Tick-tick-tock.  And in this waiting, I started to feel vividly alive, my body tingled with terror … imagining my fall from this grace we call life.  Both SHH and the Nazi stood by me in silence, they were as eager as I was to have the outside world provide me with the TRUTH.

The waiting felt, predictably, like a mini-lifetime, but it was really only minutes.  Soon missives of cheer and concern started to fill my inbox.  My angels in human form were flapping in fast to my rescue.  And as I read them I started to weep this time for joy. Because as I read them:

  • I KNEW the TRUTH of how much I loved life, even when it is terribly painful, and that I was far more significant than I would EVER know.
  •  I KNEW that as a beautiful creation fitting into this beautiful life, that I had NO RIGHT to determine myself unworthy because of the simple fact that I didn’t have and would never have all the information.
  • The best we can do, is be kind to ourselves, so we can have the inspired strength to cheer each other on, in this magnificent obstacle course called life.

And who knows, someday even a smile shared with a stranger could give them the will to live another day … and for that I am willing to believe whole-heartedly that we ALL matter.

Let’s all take a moment of silence and give ourselves a hug – either on the inside or outside – And tell ourselves – I MATTER to ME – because without ME I would not be alive!  WE matter to US, because without US, we would not be alive!

Sending out love and cheer!




7 thoughts on “Well – HELL Yeah, we ALL Matter! – HOW One of the Worst Days of my Life became One of my Best Days

    1. For me, seeing how valuable I was to others, people whom I loved and respected, showed me that my self-destructive thinking process was in partly in error. It was partly correct as well, because I was actually being more loving to others, hence the love expressed by them. It only makes sense that if I don’t treat myself well, either through negative abusive thinking, or through neglecting my needs, or through driving myself too hard – I won’t like myself. But if I am kind, and patient and understanding, and supportive to myself and my needs … it becomes easy to love myself. Perhaps you could ask yourself in what ways you could be a better friend to yourself and start incorporating those friendly actions into your daily routine. You have inspired me to think about writing a blog on “tips to being one’s own best friend.”

      1. I don’t like myself enough to want to be a ‘best friend’, but perhaps there are ways of thinking that I’m too used to, which reinforce the negative, and perpetuate my not wanting to be friendly towards myself. Goodness knows I have HUGE respect for my friends, and for their own reasons, many of them like me a lot, and I must surely attribute a reasonable level of discernment to them, otherwise…ack. It’s to easy to feel like they humour me or indulge me, but then why WOULD they, having no vested interest? I can only assume that they genuinely like me and care about me, and want good things for me.

        What do they see that I don’t? Or, more to the point, what do *I* see that they don’t? That’s the more worrying way around…

      2. Well, developing a close relationship with oneself, takes time and commitment, just like any other sort of relationship. People talk about self-love as if it were easy. But in many cultures, we are trained from our youngest days that it is actually more virtuous to neglect our needs, to condemn our desires, and to ridicule our dreams. Our Ego fancies that we are Better human beings if we sacrifice and suffer for one reason or another. Well, that is all fine and good, to be this mythical “good citizen” but in the end WE are the ones living in our own skin and must put up with ourselves every moment of our lives. And if we hate ourselves, we are inspired to escape the torture of being stuck with ourselves through the escapism of addictions. I struggled with years of debilitating depressions, where I had no choice but to suffer my emotions and body turning against me, beyond my control … and although I never committed suicide … I often prayed to die just to escape the torture that was forever recurring. Ironically, the only way for me to find my way through the suffering was to start to learn how to love myself. This was a life or death decision, no joke. But it is for all of us … if we are living a life in a self, that we hate … what is the point, really? Why do we bother? I figured it out that logically, the ONLY way to make the most of my life, was to find a way to love me, even when my depressions devastated me. I reasoned that for whatever reason, I was stricken with this chronic depression, and that it was entirely counter-productive to mentally punish myself when my emotions and body were already so excruciating. So I made a practice to treat my depressions like any other physical illness, I would be gentle and nurturing to myself during these times, and weather through them like I would the flu. What resulted was that their length decreased precipitously. What had once lasted 10 days to 2 weeks, would decrease to 3 or fewer days in the last years of my regular depressions.

        Their grim hold on me lessened, and my life and I became more lovable. So … each moment in life, we have a choice to continue down the path of light or darkness …when I was stumbling in the dark, I cursed myself every time hit my head or stubbed my toe … it only made sense at the time. Our negative voices have wisdom in them as well … they are warning signals … that something is amiss … but it takes some consciousness to figure out exactly WHAT this is. I would be the last one to say there is an “instant” fix, but certainly the payoffs of even the most simple positive changes can be more swift and dramatic than you could ever imagine! – My friend – you have inspired a blog-comment : )

      3. I understand that – the cursing when you do something simple like stub a toe – I get terribly frustrated and angry with myself, and tell myself awful things, particularly when I’m cycling, if I’m not doing as well as I think I should be. I feel weak and a failure and useless and pathetic, and then I get angry for feeling those things and that they matter, and frequently enough I’ll end up having a panic attack about it, and then really mad at myself for THAT, too. It’s a horrible spiral.

        Lately I’ve thought that my point in being here is to care for others, and I can’t do that while I’m tied up with self-hatred and self-obsession, so I need to loosen the holds on that, step away from the nails of narcissism which hold me fast, and be free to do good things and make other people’s lives happier, and so hopefully mine will be, too.

        I get terribly afraid of BORING people with this constant self-negativity, and that’s a compelling reason to change, though it seems to be another thing to beat myself up with, at the moment, rather than something which has had any influence to lessening the obsessions.

      4. Truly, you are fighting for your life. You are in the midst of one of the most torturous puzzles, that you need to figure out. You speak about your worries of boring others, but more importantly – are you boring yourself? What are you getting out of this self-torture? These are questions for you to ask yourself, rather than for the world, of course. For me, there were only a chosen few who knew the depths of my depression. I felt too much shame associated with depression to let it all hang out. I wanted to be seen as the competent and productive person that I couldn’t be during those dark spells … so I hid the truth, as best as I could. I often hid the truth by living a difficult life that gave me an external reason to be depressed – I allied myself with self-destructive men, for instance. It was easy to claim that my misery was caused by outer circumstances then. And then I could share my troubles with friends without shame. Of course, none of this was conscious, but I understand my motivations in retrospect. I remember it was a lot harder to live with myself, when I was with healthy men, because in comparison to them, I felt so inadequate and out of control. Perhaps I am rambling, here … but what I am trying to get at is … I think it is important to understand more clearly how your suffering serves you, and whether the outcomes that you perceive of value could be also be found taking another experiential path. A good friend of mine, who really helped me during one of my darker periods, was always especially kind to me when I was depressed. Kinder to me than when I was actually happy. At the time I was madly in love with him … so it follows that his treatment of me inspired me to be more depressive. When my infatuation for him, lessened, I had fallen in love with someone else, I started to see the connection. The next man, was entirely the opposite – and was a total hardass concerning my depressions … but me choosing to be with someone who no longer enabled my indulgence was indicative of me making a serious commitment to taking responsibility over my condition – a condition that seemed entirely out of my control. I was bored with being a victim … One thing about people who undergo regular depression is they are the most powerful people on this planet. Why? Because each day they choose to live, each moment they make the choice push forward through a wilderness of pain … is an epic inner battle. My friend, if you choose to commit to fight against those inner demons in a pro-active and positive way … as each battle is won … you will start to access incredible amounts of psychic, mental, and emotional energy, as well as physical energy. It is as if you were training for a marathon for years, and then suddenly all you were expected to do was run a 5k.

  1. It reinforces my low self-worth, I think. I hate the word ‘deserve’ but I truly don’t believe I deserve any better. Or am worth any better, if that makes sense. I don’t see what or how or why I could be.

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