I decided a few months ago, after several months of therapy, that I was over my mental health struggles, which I thought were limited to anxiety. But I was wrong.
It’s occurred to me, slowly, over the past few weeks, that there was something else that I needed to deal with; I just didn’t know what it was.
It finally dawned on me last night: I’ve got an I don’t like myself all that much issue.
And now that I’m trying to confront that head-on, I realize, as I’d come to realize with anxiety, that it’s something I’ve been dealing with all my life.
I also know that it is related to the anxiety that has been an issue for me since I can first remember.
The feeling is, I’m just not good enough, and it’s my fault, if that makes sense.
The issue for me, then, is how I’ve coped with this unease with myself over the years: basically by doing everything I can to distract myself from myself.
I throw myself into projects – power lifting, for a while, training for marathons, this after years of overeating, to the point where I tipped the scales at just under 300 pounds a decade ago.
If I do something, I do it better than anybody out there.
I’ve benched 450 pounds, squatted 660, run a marathon in 3:39.
If they gave out medals for distracting yourself from yourself, I’m on the medal stand, is what I’m saying.
Most nights, of late, I’ve distracted myself from myself with alcohol, convincing myself that I am more fun when I’m buzzed, and that I can’t get to sleep at night without a couple of drinks to help me calm my mind.
It’s all a way of distracting me from me, from thinking, overthinking, my myriad self-identified inadequacies.
Work is something else that I use to keep me from being me. There’s always something to write about, and you might have noticed, I write a lot of stories each day, morning, afternoon, late night, seven days a week, 365 days a year.
The reason I’m so good at this writing thing is because I use it so often to keep myself from being me.
So basically, if I’m not writing, I’m working out, or overeating, or after putting everything else away, having a couple of drinks in front of the TV.
I’m rarely just me, but that’s by design, because I don’t like myself all that much, the reason for that being … I don’t know.
I mean, I kinda do, but it’s stupid. I let myself think that I haven’t accomplished anything, when I have – helping launch Augusta Free Press, keeping it going for 20 years, and now, it’s thriving.
I have a beautiful, loving wife.
For a kid who grew up in a trailer park, I have a nice house, two cars, no money worries.
I have my health, which is important.
The one thing I don’t have is respect for myself.
I know what I need to do is stop distracting myself with other things and address this thing head-on.
I also have to admit: I don’t know how.
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Chris Graham
