IÂ’m not here to say my life was far worse than anyone elseÂ’s. IÂ’m just paving a roadway so others can see that in life; particular mountains may stand in our way. We might not be able to go around or even over top of them like some. ItÂ’s at these moments we get discouraged. Unfortunately most are at a standstill and remain that way. The rest will finally see in order to overcome this obstacle they must dig down deep.
Some may relate to this in different ways about quitting. It just so happens that mine is about negative thoughts of myself whether it was self love, worth, esteem or talents, I had little if any up until now.
And you helped me succeed in that. Thank you!!
(read below to see how)
At the start of my quit I thought I was basically quitting my addiction. Though as I sifted through pieces of my life. I noticed that quitting also helped me to heal in other ways.
During my childhood I heard quite frequently, “Why do you write? Who wants to read any thing you have to say? You know, this is really garbage, Nicole. Just like you, .. garbage.” At this time I showed absolutely no emotion. I didn’t want him to feel any satisfaction for his actions. So he found another way to once again bring pain into my life. He’d tear up anything I wrote and made sure to do it before my eyes. He glorified in seeing my pain. That’s when I started to hide anything I wrote. My hiding spot for my notebook was at the very bottom of my clothes dresser. I would take the bottom drawer out, laying my notebook flat then replacing the drawer. He never found it. No one has known about that until now. Not my mom, my husband … no one until my therapy session. In that session I brought the bad and the good. The negative and positive. My therapist hadn’t heard back from April, the person who wanted to take a look at my work and see which publisher I should send an excerpt of my book to. I felt uneasy at that point but she followed up by saying she knew someone else in Palm Beach if April was too busy. I relaxed some as I told her tonight was going to be all about me. First my negative past and then my positive present. Each were going to collided for the first time ever. I showed her the homemade cards, letters, poems and even a picture of my mom, dad and me that I hated. Why had I kept all these things for so long? Each time I moved from house to house, state to state this box came with me. This ‘baggage’ reminded me of an ugly past. It stayed within the corner of my closet yet ever so often I’d pull it out to read and remember why I wasn’t good enough.
As I read each of them to her, I noticed everything written showed a little girl aching so badly for her fatherÂ’s affection and love even to the point of begging.
I unfolded this tattered paper remembering back as to why it was written.
My father hated when I called the police. I honestly don’t understand why because they never took him away and he never got in trouble. He always had excuses. One night after they left he pulled me aside by grabbing my hair and brought my face to his. His fermented breath disgusted me but I only remember of that now. Back then my eyes were fixated to his lips as he yelled about how if the police had to keep coming out they would finally take my brother and me away. Not him. I would never see my mother again. He told me, “Now go write a note about how you don’t want to leave your mother because you love your home. Then if they do come to get you I‘ll have your note.”
To my therapist from tattered paper I read, “Daddy, I love you! I always want to be by you and never go away. I love you, Daddy because you teach me right from wrong. You are the best Daddy! My home is the best because my Daddy is the best. My Daddy is nice and I don’t want to go any where. I love my home. I love my Daddy.
Your loving daughter,
Nicole
I love you Daddy!!!
There were little hearts and flowers colored like border around the I love you part. After reading this I felt completely sick. I was suppose to write how I liked my home and didnÂ’t want to leave my mommy. Yet I wrote all about him and how he was the best. If I hated him so much then why to hell was I writing about never wanting to leave him? Was I brainwashed? Maybe so, but this letter oozed of a little girl craving love.
Now after reading several letters I pushed the negative to the side of me and read my references / recommendations from everyone here. Even though, April hadn’t read them yet I wanted to share some with Kellie, my therapist. There were a few I read ahead of time but most I hadn’t. I only picked a few to read since our session was now well over an hour. I read those that I knew were positive. Then she told me to pick three I hadn’t read so she could read them aloud. I don’t know if there is a word or words to capture this extraordinary feeling I had of self worthiness and accomplishment for inspiring some in their quit. From quitters who had 3 ½ years to those who had 10 days wrote such positive encouraging words about me. I began to cry not of sadness but absolute joy. Kellie picked up the old negative papers of the past and said, “You were told growing up you’d become nothing.” Then touching the letters from which she had just read. “Nicole, yet here I surely see how you’ve become someone quite special. And you did it through the one thing your father couldn’t take away. Your passion and love for writing. So why are you holding onto such negative objects from the past when you have so much positive within your life now?” Through the tears, I picked up the negative pile and slammed it into her trash can. Ohh, how exhilarating that felt!
She asked to read some articles .. the first being, Dear Potential Quitter. She stated, “Wow, how powerful. I could really use this in one of my workshops. Who wrote this?” I said, “You’re kidding me, .. right? Umm, Kellie, I wrote that.” She laughed stating at the end of the article she didn’t know who mls was. Our session lasted well over two hours and as we walked down the stairs to go home I asked if I could grab the trash from her office. I wanted to really throw it away! Now as I carried the bag down and out the door there stood two city trash cans on the curb. One nice green Waste-Management can and one ugly beat-up old trash can. “Which one, Kellie?” ..
“Which one do you think, Nicole?” ..
I pushed the bag into the old can.
I smiled as I got into my van. I had thrown away things that for some reason I held onto. I had quit some of the negative thinking and looked towards the positive within me.
Just like the quit with my addiction I would have to take baby steps in order to reach goals and accomplishments. And just because I threw away some negative thoughts didnÂ’t mean I was out of the woods yet. I have a huge journey.
I honestly thought quitting meant of a physical attribute not an emotional one. Whoa, was I ever wrong!
mylilsecret
