Member-only story
Why I Keep Doing Emotional Work, Even Though I Seem Fine
Because it works. It matters. And it never ends.
I started doing “self help” when I was around 12 years old. I think I did it because I felt so bad about myself. I’d been molested by my father and my grandfather, and I was racked by shame, self-doubt, and anger, which I directed at myself. The hope that I could become a better person, a person worthy of respect, a “good” person, inspired me. Most of my work then aimed at intellectual and physical goals — things that other people would notice and praise.
All of this felt good: it felt good to believe I could get better, become a more worthy person. And the improvements that I did achieve won positive attention from other people. But all this effort also felt exhausting. And for many years it served as a distraction, keeping me from seeing how low my self-worth really was, insulating me from the true intensity of my pain. I was papering the walls, not getting to the causes of my suffering. I didn’t know how.
Fast forward 20 years. I was in my early thirties, married, and desperately unhappy. My marriage was a complete sham, but I felt stuck and helpless. I was involved in a deeply painful and wrong relationship with a man who was also married. I had days when I felt depersonalized, which terrified me. I still had no definite idea what I wanted to do…
