something good coming into my life means i’m constantly asking myself, “when is this gonna go wrong?” or telling myself, “this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker when the end comes.” and even, “i really don’t deserve this good thing.”

my brain is wired to think like that. some call it pessimistic, others call it fake. i call it years of never ever being good enough for anyone or anything. constant question marks, constant betrayal, constant disheartening. i’ve come to figure out that telling myself to prepare for the end of the good things is what helps me bounce back best. i am trying my best to rewire my brain, so i can open a new door.

i’ve been able to prepare myself for what the bullies have said to my face, for the lying and cheating men i’ve allowed into my life, for the every day good things: like sunshine and birds chirping, even warm embraces from people I love, for the good things that i’ve felt i don’t deserve. i’ve been able to prepare for the end of the good feeling in my life, because i learned a long time ago that all good things must end.

i wasn’t able to prepare myself for the car accident that took one of my best friends, or nine months later, the drowning of another of my best friends, or six weeks after that, another best friend taking his life, even though he called me begging for help, but i couldn’t give it to him because i was in the same state of mind. i couldn’t save them. i replay every single one of those days in my head. what if i had just called him to check in? maybe he wouldn’t have crashed. what if i had asked him to hang out once i got off work? maybe he wouldn’t have gotten on that boat. what if i had just answered the damn call instead of watching it ring? he’d probably be alive right now. i thought that I had been through enough hell in my childhood, but hell followed me through the doors, into what was supposed to be a beautiful new beginning for me.

my therapist said I have a form of PTSD from my past. i have grief and trauma from years of horrible situations, including terrible people. people, who when you would see them walking down the street, look like normal people; some might even be the nicest people you know. however, in my past, these people beat me and broke me down. they shattered every ounce of my being, my confidence, my love.

they created a monster in my head, that screams at me when something good starts to form in my life. “YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. YOU ARE NOT WORTH IT. YOU ARE NOT WORTHY. YOU DON’T DESERVE THIS.”

i am a hurricane of a paradox; a constant contradiction. i used to think i was a mess. someone who just bounced from emotion to emotion, like a kid in a candy store. i have slowly come to realize that it’s not a bad thing, i just feel a lot, about everything. i am someone who can love very gently, but will go to war for those i love. i am someone who wants to light up a dull room with witty comments and a bold laugh to cheer people up, but when i’m alone, i can’t seem to do that for myself. i am equal parts gentle and ferocious, and i often get my priorities switched up.

i am the girl who, when she allows herself to love, she gives it her all. i am the girl who, when i allow myself to open up, i can be one of the purest hearts in the world. i am the girl who, when i allow myself to let life take over the reigns, soars to new heights because someone, somewhere believes that i am made to do great things.

i have come to find out that I don’t hate what has happened to me. when i was different than the rest because i refused to sink into the nothingness of zero personality, the fake, cookie-cutter image of my surrounding peers, i made myself a human target. when i thought i found love, i actually found myself on a leash, answering to every demand of a boy who will never know how to love. when i lost my soul, i found it again, by my damn self. a lot of the ways i’ve learned to love myself has been through the hell i walked through. i’ve learned that getting shoved down to the ground, dirt thrown on my soul, fists thrown, words sliced through my heart, i am the only damn person who can pick myself up, let flowers bloom through the dirt, walk away from a fight, and speak kind words. i picked my damn self up. i got myself through the burning hell fire, and i still do it every day.

i am so damn worthy of every good thing in my life.

i deserve a life of lighting up rooms, but looking in the mirror and smiling at the person i see. i have to be kind to myself. i have to be proud of myself. not many people can do what i do. i deserve good people in my life that know they’re protected by my gentle ferocity, but equally, will go to war for me, too. my love is the kind of love that is scary at first. i hold no limitations on the amount of love i pour into people. my love is the kind of love that fixes people; it mends the broken. but i deserve a love that is wild and spontaneous, but gentle and understanding; a love that understands that love has not been kind to me. love has hurt me, love has left me bleeding, but i will always be standing with my arms wide open for the right kind of love. i deserve every good thing in my life, despite what the demons in my mind tell me, or the ghosts of my bitter past.

i am good enough. i deserve good things. i am so damn worthy.