Why my mind no longer sucks ass.

Dear inner-self, subconscious, etc:

Fuck you. I hope you fall into a bottomless pit of lava and suffer for all eternity. And need to listen to an endless loop of Mariah Carey songs during that eternity.

I was in a car accident when I was 12. It was not my fault. My father was driving, and it was not his fault, either. It was a freak - what’s that word? Accident.

The elderly woman driving the other car died at the hospital afterwards. I went home that night with a cut-up leg and a headache, and I ate pizza with my family. The deceased woman did not. I know nothing about her, other than she drove an old, big, brown car, did not wear a seatbelt, and died in March of 1999.

We’ve been over this before, subconscious. I know what happened that day. I relive it far, far too often in my nightmares, and this is after two years of therapy. I was in a minor fender-bender shortly after getting my license, and literally shook - physically shook for hours afterwards, trying to tell myself it was nothing like That Other Accident.

My parents and sister knew about it, obviously, the day it happened. When I finally found a decent therapist nearly four years after the fact, I eventually told her. Until a few nights ago, they were the only ones - immediate family and therapist - who I’ve ever even told what happened. A few nights ago I was having an extremely emotional talk with a friend, and blurted it out.

Now, I’m just too goddamn tired of hiding it. It was not my fault. It was tragic, yes, and certainly traumatizing. I didn’t deal with it right and neither, really, did my parents. They should have noticed the abrupt change in my behavior. I don’t fault them, though.

I’ve never been secure. As early as first grade I cried myself to sleep because I hated myself. I was short and I didn’t talk right and I was too smart for my own good. Those problems continued to this day and others just piled on. I’ve got enough stress and doubt to deal with. I do not need to constantly feel sick over an accident I was just as much a victim of, five years ago.

Your reaction to that accident, subconscious or whoever the hell this stranger in my head is, cost me so much. You cost me friends. You cost me peace of mind. You cost me my once-strong faith: in myself, in others, in the world in general, in some sort of deity. I went from believing, semi-observant Jew to hardcore, diehard atheist in an instant. I suddenly doubted that there was any good, at all, in the world. I was certain that there was nothing good in me. I’d been depressed to begin with and you, you bastard, just fed on what should have been normal grief. You turned it into an incurable plague in my mind.

But know what? I’m not that little girl anymore. I’m a young woman. A college student. A published, paid writer. A friend to many people. An accomplished student. A black belt. A daughter, a sister, and a person. I’m everything that you’ve tried so hard to keep me from being.

So at this point, I’m going to get something off of my chest:

YOU ARE A FUCKING MISERABLE, PITIFUL, DISGUSTING, DISGRACEFUL, UNPLEASANT, AND FOUL EXCUSE FOR HUMANITY!!!

You heard me, you heartless bitch. I have risen above where you wanted me, and now I see. You’ve been trying to hold me down. You’ve loaded me down with guilt and doubt and insecurity and fear for so long, but you’re out of ammunition. I’m just better than you, you fuckwad. You want me to keep being scared of everything - myself, of others, of life? Of living my life? Tough shit, because I’ve got different plans.

Here’s a hearty fuck-you to all that insecurity and self-doubt. To the nightmares that I’ve suffered from my entire life. To the panic attacks, and the endless sleepless nights when I’ve cried until I’ve no more tears, and still lay wondering why I was so wrong.

I’m not so wrong. you, you miserable, intangible embodiment of misery, you are wrong. You are wrong about me, about my past, my present, and my future.

I’m going to go out and accomplish things. Not even great things, but things. I’m already doing it, aren’t I? I’ve got my whole life in front of me. the past is over. I can’t change it, so stop trying to make me live in that hellish time.

I’m my own person and there’s no room in my mind for any of your baseless components: doubt, guilt, grief, anger, fear. I’m saying farewell to you and your fucking guerilla tactics on my mind. I’ve tried to get rid of you so goddamn many other ways: music, poetry, prose. I’ve tried filling my mind with everything else, building up walls, and you still slip in the cracks. I’ve tried emptying my mind of everything, but you still invade, like the scent of rotten garbage even when it’s disposed of.

So now I’m doing what you don’t expect. I’m turning around and baring my teeth and if I need to, declaring all-out fucking war on you. I can’t continue to be a pacifist here, not to the ghosts in my mind.

So, really, all of you: self-doubt, insecurity, fear, timidity, guilt: Fuck you. Get the hell out of my head and go find someone else to haunt. Find someone who’s like I used to be, and is willing to tolerate your bullshit. I’m kicking you out, you freeloader. You just take up space and don’t pay rent, so pack your shit up and get the hell out.

Because, finally, I’m bigger than you.

You showed it!
Kudos to you for getting over it, and proving to yourself you are okay. It really is a wonderous thing when you heal yourself like that, when you change your life by yourself. Good job.

Hey NinjaChick, I’m very happy for you! What a great time to have reclaimed your life - right after your 18th birthday and when you’re heading off for college. Good for you!

Fucking A, NinjaChick. That’s awesome.

Way to go, NinjaChick! I wish that I had been smart enough to do that when I was eighteen.

I predict that you will now begin to parent yourself. I hope that you will be a strong and loving parent to your own psyche.

NinjaChick, you rock!!!

(Just thought I’d let you know that :wink: )

NinjaChick, the first rule of arguing with your subconscious is you do not talk about arguing with your subconscious.

The second rule of arguing with your subconscious is YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT ARGUING WITH YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS.

"Dont go worrying your head off
and if life you treat you bad
Don’t get eeeeven
Don’t get eeeeven
Don’t get eeeeeeeeveeen

Get MAD!"

-The Joker

applauding

A few months ago I said something similar to mine. It’s very freeing. Good for you!

Right on, Ninja Chick!
I am truly in admiration of how you told your inner self off. Your rant really hit a deep spot in me. I know an inner self bitch not too unlike yours.

NinjaChick Hallelujah, Sister! Preach it!

applause
That is great. You should print the post out and hang it up somewhere, so you have it for when you feel you’re getting yourself down again.

Yay!

Author! Author!

Congratulations, Ninjachick. You did it. You kicked its butt! Woohoo!