Leemah’s Profile

I’ve always thought that I was “different.” What does that mean anyway? Normalcy is an enigma. And uniqueness is unappreciated. Their definitions are definitely subjective. Their meanings lie only in the person witnessing them. Whatever they mean I never wanted to be defined by either. Always wanted to just be me. But more than that, I’ve always wanted acceptance for being me. Approval. Reassurance that I’m “right.” Don’t ask what inside of me craves this kind of approval, but it consumes me. I replay thoughts, actions, situations and conversations in my head, trying to make them “right” somehow. I think that officially makes me crazy. I feel crazy sometimes. I don’t want to care what other people think about me. I don’t want to wish (obsess) about a past I cannot change. Sometimes I don’t even want my life. Yeah, I’m a nut! One day I’ll be happy…when I’m dead.
Many men in my life have accused me of being crazy. Not because I’ve hurt them physically or done trifling things to them. But because I’m an, “emotional black hole.” I’m actually quoting one of my ex’s. Honestly. At the time I didn’t want to believe him. Since the demise of our whatever-ship, I’ve had time to gain a bit of perspective about my emotional and mental well-being. And I’ve realized that he may be right. I demand emotions, actions and respect from people that I do NOT always return. I’m selfish, judgmental, sometimes dishonest, demanding and unreasonable. It’s funny that I can recognize these vices in myself, yet am unwilling take any steps to change myself, to evolve.
I’m scared. It’s as simple as that. The most driving emotion in my body is fear. Fear incites actions in me that I’m unable to understand let alone explain. I pray to deal with it, but God only helps those who help themselves first. I’m not there yet. Self-help has to begin with self-love and I’m not positive that I love me yet. I love a ton of people in my life. I have a lot of people who love me. But the most important person just isn’t there yet. Me.
Why? What’s so hard about loving yourself? People go crazy and become sane searching for a way to love themselves. I watch people and I don’t think everyone loves themselves all the time. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are people who walk around with smiles on their faces. People who don’t argue or fight or even get upset. Because they love themselves. There are people who wake up smiling and go to be laughing. The people who say they’re having a wonderful day (and mean) even if you’ve caught them on the worst day of their lives. There are people who sing because they’re happy and sing because they can. The people who say hello to everyone they see, even those that are frowning. These “happy” people, I believe, have truly found God.
Let me clarify. I’m not a religious person, in the least. I don’t go to church. I have been to church a few times in my adult life. This doesn’t mean that I don’t love God, because I do. I may be angry (and also afraid) of God because of the things that happened to me as a child. But I want to be closer to God. I want that peace and security. I’m tired of searching for something in people that I’ll never find. But mostly, I want to recognize, understand and respect myself and my ability to succeed. I want to have faith. But how does one go about getting something so unattainable. Isn’t that something you have to earn? Or is that you have to want it bad enough? Maybe counseling? I thought about seeking guidance from a minister or psychiatrist. But fear rears it’s ugly head and makes me feel stuck. Keeps me this hole, alone and lonely.