Worth.

: the value of something measured by its qualities or by the esteem in which it is held // deserving of

That’s the definition of worth. Something I’ve always struggled to measure myself by. Why I feel the need to measure myself against it and what I believe it to be says something in and of itself. I think it goes hand-in-hand with the lack of self love that I’ve given myself over the years, or maybe it’s the impossible standard of perfectionism that I’ve held myself to. Probably both.

I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting about this word for the past month. I don’t remember why it popped into my head but I remember it was as I was laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. The time of night that my thoughts like begin swirling around and preventing me from sleeping through the night. And I remember thinking to myself, what is my worth? And as you can probably imagine, I didn’t get much sleep. The fact that I even have to question my worth shows that I don’t understand myself enough. I don’t even know if understand is the right word. I think it’s that I don’t know how to love myself enough. I don’t know how to accept myself with the imperfections that have magnified themselves in my eyes. I don’t always feel this way, but when I do it comes in waves, and it’s been a 10 foot wave coming at me for a few weeks.

One of my biggest fears in life is never understanding how to truly love myself. I try so hard to love the woman that I am, that I was, and that I will become, but it’s like I have this constant fear that I can’t be loved by others, that I refuse to love myself. I know it sounds convoluted and probably mental, but that’s the only way I could think to frame it. I’m constantly worried that I’m everyone’s second choice, and that I’m going to disappoint the people I love by not living up to who we know that I have potential to be. It’s this constant pressure that makes me feel like a burden for my insecurities. The definition of worth is literally ‘deserving of’ and I can remember countless occasions of my teen years that I felt deserving of nothing. So I spent years proving that I deserved to be called smart or pretty or skinny or athletic or a party girl or fun or outgoing. And I didn’t understand this behavior until I started being honest with myself on why I act the way that I do. And now a year later I’m still processing it. So many years of trying to prove something that I never had to prove. So many years of limiting myself to a label of what I thought I was supposed to be. I put myself into a box and didn’t allow room in that box to grow.

The value of something measured by its qualities. That’s also the definition of worth. And if we look at it like that, then to understand my worth I need to understand the qualities that make me, me. And I think that means even the qualities that I’m ashamed of. Because the not-so-great qualities have also molded my great qualities in a way. I think one of the best things I’ve gained in recovery is the ability to be vulnerable, and this quality came from me accepting that I’ve been afraid of my feelings for about my whole life. Without understanding the latter, I wouldn’t have been able to gain this new quality. And when I say afraid of my feelings I’m alluding more to the fact that I’m afraid to feel. I’m afraid to love because allowing myself to love and be loved opens the door for pain. But without pain, there can be no healing. And without pain and healing, I don’t think there can be growth. I almost think that it’s a good thing to be scared. Because being scared means that I have something to lose. Whereas a year and a half ago, I had nothing to lose because I was numb.

I think these thoughts of worth and love and fear have been so prevalent in my mind lately because I’m so incredibly happy with where my life is headed and who I’m becoming, that I’m fucking terrified that I’m going to lose it. It’s like this self-destructive fucked up habit that I have where I’m like ‘no one can take it away from me if I ruin it for myself’. Because then I’m still in control. The key difference now is that before today, I haven’t said that outloud to myself. That I shield myself from pain by controlling the pain and causing it to myself. Why? Still trying to figure that part out. But I do know that it’s something I refuse to do this time. Because I truly am happy, and even with the days that I struggle, life really is good.

I’m not going to write out my worth, so I hope no one was reading this waiting for me to do so. It’s one of those things where if I need to explain my worth, then it kind of ruins the point, right? What I will say is that in order for ME to understand my worth, and to know what it is, I need to continue to dismantle the walls that I’ve put up. I need to love the parts of me that I’ve hidden from even myself. And after everything, I’m finally learning to do that. Even though sometimes it’s really fucking hard.