Defective – Damaged – Broken

I accept the fact that I am defective – damaged. I accept that within myself.  I have for a very long time. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.  It is so easy for me to pick out the negative aspects of who I am. I have this very jaded thought process. I over analyze everything imaginable and lets not begin to talk about the paranoia that shows up just as my mania begins.

I mentally degrade myself.  Call myself names.  Stupid.  Fat.  Crazy.  Ugly.  Bitch.

I always feel like I am not worth fighting for. That I am nothing but a burden on those around me. I tend to make that decision for them, instead of letting them form their own ideas of who I am or whether I am worth it.

I  am an insignificant speck of a being that is defective in every way.  But unlike a defective item you purchased at your local store and returned for a refund, there are no returns on people, no refunds.  My Jaded mind tells me that even if I could be returned, no refund would be given, after all; I am worthless.

Nor can I turn back the hands of time and re-do things to change past mistakes into rewarding and enriching experiences. I do often wonder what would happen if I were able to turn back those hands, dialing time back and having a do over.  How far back would be far enough to make a change?

Do I go back a few days to when I freaked out while drinking and change it?  Maybe I should go back a few weeks try to head off the mania before it began.  A few months…..oh yeah I could make a change there I wouldn’t have went so long between therapy sessions.  A few years, oh the changes I would make there.  I cannot even begin to explain.

Where would I want to start over?

My mind was screaming while I was writing that last sentence, a ton of mental and emotional pain running through my body, almost to the point of physical pain.  My mind is screaming for me to go back to when I was 6 and scream bloody hell for someone to help me.

But then the other side of my jaded analytical mind begins to wonder.   If I could change the past would I still be me when I got here? Or would I be a completely different person then I am now?  Would this outcome that I have had in life still be the same?  Would I be stronger? Maybe I will be weaker.  Maybe I would be even more insignificant than I am now.

Then a strange question creeps in and stops me mid thought.  Would I want to change who I am today?  Part of me is screaming YES.  Because  maybe it would make me a better person.  Maybe I would not have mental health issues if my past were not clouded with so much pain and hurt.  Maybe I would have been able to make better choices.

How would changing my past define me as a person?

But I realize that if I would lose the things in my life that I love and cherish the most – my husband – my kids – then no I would not change my path.  I would take the path all over again just to make sure that these very special people were a part of my life.

I realize that I have had rough times.  I also understand that these experiences have played a big part in shaping who I am today.  Some of these things I might not like so well, but there are things that I can live with.  Maybe these experiences are what makes me write, maybe they are some of my driving force.

But still I cannot help but wonder:

would i still be….

defective – damaged – broken