Why am I so concerned about improving myself, pleasing others and doing more for those I love. I never have a quiet moment without either beating myself up about who I haven't called, what I haven't done, who I've let down or how I've not met my own expectations. I constantly have lists taped to the fridge on scheduled exercise, meditation, etc. I have so many lists of goals and new habits to start if I put them all together I 'm sure I'd have enough for a small book. What causes such self-loathing and dissatisfaction.
I was not an abused child anymore than my neighbors in the lower class ethnic area of Toronto I was raised in. We, occasionally got slapped, mostly ignored and never got any physical affection. If that is abuse, then so be it. I was the second of five children. My mother couldn't stand two of my siblings, adored two others and basically was ambivalent towards me. I think she hated me a bit for being dark like my father and liked me a little for being easy going. She is now an old alcoholic living in a nursing home with no access to booze. My father loved us all the same but had a terrible temper. We gauged his mood when he arrived home from work and either had fun with him or hid from him depending on his disposition. He was not physically abusive; just verbally.
My siblings all suffer from some form of depression; two are grossly overweight, one is on strong anti-depressants and another has scary, dark periods where he just shuts down emotionally for weeks... and he was my Mom's favourite. I've always been known in the family as the thread that ties us all together, the risk taker, the peacemaker.
If I want to be happy and sober I must find a way to accept all of me: the procrastinator, the complex woman I described a few posts ago. I am at a loss as to how to start. I thought I was doing fine.The recent stresses have kick-started my insecurities.
I need to practice self-nurturing and love. It's so hard to let go of, not only my expectations, but those of others. Any suggestions?