Progress Report

I love having a blog.

There's no better place to drag yourself when your life is a mess or YOU really messed up or both.

Blog. Your own personal soapbox/therapy session/recovery room for licking your bruised ego/place to chill and get back up on your feet.

I have an overwhelming temptation to categorize this post under "life sucks", but I will resist the urge.

Especially, since it's not really true.

Writing this post is already very difficult, and I haven't even started.

But I need to write it... because that's how I gather my thoughts and find a way out of my troubles. Writing it all out. Having it out there on a page. Concrete and solid words, and not just my inner demons anymore.

So... remember MIP (My Inner Programmer)?

Yes, that horrible, annoying part of me that suddenly comes out of nowhere and does his best to ruin what I've been working hard to build up, undermining my self-confidence, killing all joy? Yeah, him.

Anyway, ever since I started law school, the situation has improved *significantly*. I became so engrossed in being a busy bee of a law student, that I had little time, much less patience, to listen to MIP's venomous whispers. That's not to say I've never felt down or apathetic or disaffected during the past few months. On the contrary, my struggles with health issues, stress management, and the uncertainty of the first year have not made my time at the law school a completely smooth sailing. Nevertheless, the nauseating despair I've been facing for so many years now seemed to be behind me. I wasn't even thinking about it.

The psychologists among you, amateur or otherwise, are probably all nodding your heads in unison at this point.

My description probably sounds so familiar; I just stuffed my issues at the back of my mind-closet somewhere, never actually resolving anything, just distracting myself with other problems.

Which means that MIP never really went away. I ignored him, but that doesn't mean he wasn't there, to surface at the worst possible moment, when I least expect him. You just strike the wrong chord - and there he is, torturing me, pulling at my mind, driving me down a destructive road, and turning me away from reason and consideration.

(I hate, HATE, HATE writing this. But I have to. I already did too much damage; now it's time to rebuild.)

Let's just say that last night was BAD. I hate to admit it, but I was THIS close to make a decision, which would have had devastating consequences and which I would probably regret somewhere between five and ten minutes later... but since catastrophic, apocalyptic decisions tend to be final and irreversible, regrets would do little good. That's when I knew it was time to 'fess up.

Don't worry, I'm not suicidal or murderous; never was, never will be.

But anyway, I was... I suddenly knew that I had to confront the cause of My Inner Programmer. Where did this pathetic, bloodsucking killjoy come from? He's been with me for many years, you know, but he hasn't been there when I was a child. No, he gradually emerged over time, growing stronger and more possessive the older I got. The answer lies in the past...

Whatever you may think of my appearance now, it is definitely a VAST improvement over what I looked like before I was about fifteen.

As a child, I was bony, stunted, with dead, lifeless mousy hair hanging around a pallid face, small eyes, and horrible yellow teeth sticking out (took many years of dental correction to straighten them out, and I'm still at the mercy of my dentist!) I was painfully shy, a tomboy, and I didn't have too many nice clothes either, simply because we couldn't afford it. I wore hand-me-downs most of the time... And I was awkward, horribly awkward. Wooden. Still am, but it's not as noticeable because I spend most of the day in class, sitting and listening, so I can't inflict too much harm on my environment.

I didn't have any wonderful talents either. I was a good student, never dumb, curious, and with a passion for writing. Perhaps precocious for my age. But I was mind-numbingly boring, gray, and unnoticeable; a real wallflower if ever there was one. So imagine me, and then imagine a beautiful, talented younger relative, with gorgeous auburn hair, who is funny, cute, talented, dances, plays several musical instrument, is overall an excellent student, but is also wonderful at math (one subject that was always my nemesis, to the shame of my science-and-math oriented family), who is graceful neat, helpful with household chores, popular, gregarious, athletic, feminine, well-dressed, outgoing, and is everything I am not. Now, imagine further, that everyone, from relatives to strangers on the street is complimenting her on everything ranging from her unusual looks to her various talents, and doesn't notice me. Imagine that our differences are constantly being rubbed in my face, with the aforementioned relative always being shown off at all the family gathering and before multitudes of people, and that I am always, and constantly, being compared to her... disfavorably.

No matter what I do, my own accomplishments fade before hers. My good grades are no match for her various awards. I am not artistic; can't draw to save my life; hers is noticed and admired. My writing talent is not something to be bragged about. It's not even a talent; just that I read more than my peers, and therefore sound a bit more mature when I write. And horror of HORRORS, I can't DANCE! I'm not a woman, I'm a nobody. At every gathering I'm pushed to dance, and if I refuse, am compared to the relative who wins ballroom dancing awards. If I do dance, I'm usually stumbling over my feet, am wooden and uncomfortable, and am constantly upbraided for for not being graceful and natural.

I long to dance, but there's no one to dance with besides old, boring relatives.

It's a humiliation, and to hide what I real feel, I develop an elaborate facade - I pretend that I hate dancing and nothing could be more boring.

I hate her. With time, I find out that it's not *her* that I really hate, but myself for never being quite good enough, never measuring up, never being noticed. And everyone around me, for preferring her over me, for noticing and praising her and not me, for always comparing, and not accepting me for who I am. I grow envious, and increasingly jealous of her attention. That jealousy mars my life, turns into painful torture I'm forced to hide inside, for fear of social disdain. Jealousy and envy are considered signs of my own inadequacy; they are MY fault. I'll be blamed for them. With time, I grow jealous of any sign of attention to everyone but me. My mother playing with little kids. I start to hate little kids. Girls getting roses from their boyfriends in high schools. I start resenting and hating them all. My hatred is all encompassing, but it is destructive only to me. I am a ball of distresses, complexes, and various neuroses.

They tell me I have only myself to blame for being so selfish and refusing to share attention with others.

I become self-effacing and hide in corners. I start to hate family gatherings, all these people coming, having to be on the sidelines all the time.

Large gatherings make me sociophobic and sick.

"Look out, she has such beautiful long eyelashes, she'll be taking away all your admirers from you in a few years" - another relative jokes playfully... but I don't take it as a joke. Instead, I isolate myself and prefer to have no one, to avoid dating altogether. I'll wait it out till I can get at guys who are older than I am I decided... because those who are my age... they'll take one look at her, and they'll be smitten. Why would anyone want me after seeing her?

Feeling inadequate and useless, I seek to compensate by being the exact opposite of what she is. I know I can never compete in the same ares where she blossoms. I'll always be compared disfavorably. I can dance like her, or be as beautiful, or as outgoing, such a good little femme. I'll be the opposite, and they'll admire me for all the opposite reasons, I thought.

I become insanely painfully ambitions, working upwards, upwards, to prove something to everybody, to prove that I'm worth something, that I'm not any worse than she is. That I am to be taken seriously.

She loves math, I hate it. Instead I envelop myself in languages arts, and gather awards. But no one seems to care.

She's excellent with technology. I grow to hate everything that has to do with it. As everyone around me rants and raves about business and programming, I go in the opposite direction and become obsessed with following my long-time dream and getting into law school. If only I get into law school, I'll finally prove that I'm something, that I'm worth something, then everything will be all right. I'm hounded by my lack of confidence in myself, from being constantly told that I can't do this or that, that I'll never accomplish this or that, that my career goals are far-fetched, that my lack of affinity for household chores is appalling, that I will make a terrible mother and a terrible wife, that no man will ever want to be with me because of my terrible personality and unfeminine traits.

I become friends with her. She's like a younger sister to me. It's not her fault, any of this.

The aim of my hatred grows more accurate.

MIP, however, follows me everywhere, nagging me endlessly, even when THEY aren't. Their voices have collectively turned into his. He's whispering, whispering into my ear, that all my goals are useless, that I'll never accomplish anything. I'm not good enough.

To everyone's surprise, I finally find a boyfriend... but MIP doesn't give up. My insecurities become one of the wedges in my relationship, I become obsessed with not being left alone for even a few days, I crave attention and proof that I am needed. I crave passion and endless devotion. I crave to be the top and only priority. That is not to be, and so I am being eaten up by my jealousy. My life becomes a nightmare.

The relationship is over. I fling myself into working. Law school becomes the answer. Though I often compare myself to other law students, that happens less and less. I am immersed in various projects and law school-related issues. It seems that with time, I get much better with attaining stability and peace. Months pass, and despite the occasional bouts of lack of self-confidence, I am beginning to emerge from the darkness that was my life. There's only one catch: I still can't stand being compared to anyone. Take it or leave it. You have to accept me the way I am or not at all. The horrible pain of being compared, the rage and the jealousy that nearly killed whatever good was in me... it's all still with me. Just because I don't show it, doesn't mean it's not there. My Inner Programmer stems from that past of endless comparisons, of knowing that I will never amount to anything, that I'll never be as good as someone else - a relative, a classmate, someone's anecdotal co-worker. Whenever I seem close to attaining happiness, MIP appears on the scene, and drives me towards destroying it with my own hands, just to prevent a future of uncertainty and ruin.

"If you don't end it all now, if you don't do as I say, it'll be so much worse in the future. You can't make it work. No way. Don't you know it yourself? Just look at you. You're completely useless the way you are now. You know that" - he whispers sweetly, and I immediately believe that he really does care about me, and knows me for who I am, that he's the only true adviser and helper to me.

It got to the point that I came to believe that I will never be GOOD ENOUGH just the way I am, that there is no use for me in any capacity, that embracing the law and MIP are my only hope of achieving anything and even THAT is extremely doubtful, and that I shouldn't build close relationships with people, since they don't need me for anything. Why should they?

It took yesterday, it took teetering on the bring of a disaster, it took almost trampling over something I held very dear for me to realize that... I have to choose. That I can no longer coexist with My Inner Programmer. There's no place in me both for him and for being a happy, self-assured human being. There's no place both for him and for living. So either he or... something else had to go. A carelessly tossed phrase, which meant almost nothing brought up years of self-abuse and pathological jealousy. Jealousy towards everyone, not just one particular person. Jealousy - the feeling of utter helplessness and futility of all action. The raw pain started out as a feeling of a slap to one's face... and rose as a gorge of anger and desire to hurt back just as much as I was hurt... And then... then the inevitable, what I've always hated the most. The desire to flee, and leave everything behind. To start anew, with a clean late. Alone, by myself, showing how strong I am, far from everything that I know, reaching the top, finding a job, proving, proving that I am worth something. What it is that I am trying to prove is almost incomprehensible....

I can't see past my blind rage. And then... then I realize with horror what it is I am doing. My boundless lack of confidence in myself has reached some proportion that it is now hurting other people. A fine job I've done of "taking care of everything." I stop and I look around and I see what a horrible effect my own response has and I tell myself: "what am I doing..." I try to roll it back, I try to stop, but I can't... once the words are out of my mouth, once I started acting... the effect will follow, whether I like it or not. Damage control is almost impossible at this point, without everything looking like a horrible farce. Yet somehow I must gather my wit and take control of myself, of the situation.... End the horror that I myself created, however unwittingly.

... I wake up hours later, my eyes red and heavy from the earlier tears. My head fills stuffed, and the darkness around me is surreal. I remember something... the events of that evening reemerge from somewhere within my mind... but I push them back. I must have been dreaming.

I wake up in the morning, tired and empty. The events come flooding back. What I took to be a dream in the middle of the night, was actually very real. How could I have been like that, I whisper to myself. How could I have allowed that to happen. I lost control. I let MIP win once again. What happened was just terrible... and what could have happened.... I don't want to think about it, but I force myself to acknowledge the possible consequence of my rash reaction. That's it. I've had it with MIP.

I feel so bad. As always, a flood of emotions overwhelmed. I didn't think about what I was doing, couldn't think straight at all... my temperament took the better of me... and the next day sadness, embarrassment, and guilt rush at me. Like someone who's had too much to drink remembers the horrible events of last night's debauchery during the morning hangover, and bites nails with guilt and horror of the realization, so it is I that I recall how bad everything can get once MIP takes over. I want this day to end already. I want this whole thing to be far away in the past. I can't take it anymore.

I have to deal with what's happened...

And then I have to find a way to destroy MIP before MIP destroys me and the life I've been trying to build for myself.

Determined,
Irina