Feel Worthless? Break the Shackles | Highly Sensitive Introvert

When I think about the words “worthless” or “low self worth” all I can think is how badly I want move beyond it’s shackles.

I do not always want to be the one afraid to speak. I do not always want to be the one to come away from an argument who feels like their mind has not been heard. I do not always want to wrestle with thoughts of not being good enough, not talented enough, fun enough, exciting enough. Never enough.

Those thoughts are not ones I like to admit to, but they are thoughts that cross through my mind regularly. The voice of worthlessness may not always be loud, but it’s consistent.

And that’s the problem.

The problem always begins with that voice – you know the one. The one that tells you you’re worthless? You have it too, I’ll bet. I think we all do at some point.

It tells us each different things, but specifics don’t matter. It hits below the belt, jabbing at old, familiar insecurities. It rips scabs off wounds which have just started to heal again.

And since I’ve already fessed up to the ugly cry of admissions by saying I even have low self worth in the first place, I’ll admit also to what my voice inside says to me.

It says I’m not capable of getting anything done. It says I do nothing well. It says I’m a failure as a person. It says, very strongly, that rejection from others is just around the corner, just as soon as they see what I really am. It says I’m always wrong, that my feelings and thoughts are stupid.

It says I’m garbage at the core.

I’ve tried in the past to stamp out this voice, but every time it reappears with a new vengeance and gloating tone, saying “look, I’m still here, you failed at this too.” It tells me then that failure runs in my veins, alongside the worthlessness, and that I need to give up on trying to view myself different.

In the past, I listened to this voice. I curled up inside myself for much my life, afraid mostly of being found out for being so worthless. On the outside though, I wore that mask.

You have a mask too. We all have one.

My mask is made of flexible camouflage. It bends and changes shape to keep those around me happy and to keep the peace. It blends in so as not to be noticed for what little value I think is inside me. I wear it daily, trying to hide the sensitivity and the insecurity that is me. It covers the turmoil of thoughts and feelings with an “I’m fine”.

In a way, the mask holds together two opposite things colliding inside of me.

I have a constant and deep craving to please others. I easily get caught up in a need for them to show or tell me that I do have value. Yet at the same time, I am afraid to show the real me for fear they will discover “what” I am: worthless.

So I hide. Because being noticed, even though it’s something I crave, it means that I might be rejected and hurt deeply.

Not making waves has been my way of life for as long as I can remember. Some of that is just because of who I am, but much of it has been from wearing that camouflage mask out of fear. If I’m not looked at, or if I always bend to the wishes and thoughts of others, I won’t be told there’s something wrong with me.

I’m not scared of criticism in the normal sense of the word. I certainly don’t think I’m right all the time. Deep down, I’m just scared of being found out. Scared that someone will point out and confirm what the voices always tell me is there: I’m “worthless”. So, it’s safer to hide.

I’m tired now of the voices.

Due to sheer exhaustion, I’ve reached a point where I am more irritated than afraid of them. Their gloating words have started to take on an obnoxious feel. Now, instead of only fear, there is a kernel of determination.

It is time to fight back.

I’m fearful of that, too, because fighting back in my case means pulling off the camouflage mask that hides me away so well. It means choosing to expose myself and allow myself to be vulnerable to what I fear most.

Putting my heart, my true self, out there to be scorned and judged badly is the hardest thing in the world. At first glance, it looks to me like all it will do is feed the voices and give them more ammunition. My instincts scream, “No, stay hidden!”

Fear thinks the best route to go is to keep inside myself and to keep putting my energy into trying to change that core feeling of garbage. Fear wants me to keep trying to pound that square peg into that round hole.

But after all these years of trying to do just that, something very different clicked.

I will never be rid of the voices which tell me I’m worthless. They are there, a part of who I am, just as much as my blue eyes and the freckles on my arms.

I’ve spent nearly 40 years trying to rid myself of them, and it hasn’t worked. I see now, instead, the only way to fight back at them is to acknowledge they are here, and that they are a part of me.

I have to face them head on. I can’t stamp them out, because it’s not possible to stamp out parts of myself. It doesn’t work.

They are bullies, you see.

They are the kind that sidle up behind you to whisper cruelty in your ear. Fear and confusion makes their threats feel real. The only way to take the scary power from those whispered voices hiding in the shadows, is to turn towards them with a spotlight and ask “What did you say?”

That’s what this is. A slight shift in effort.

It is a turn away from trying to force a sense of value to be there inside me as if by magic. Ignoring those voices or appeasing them won’t work. Instead, I shine a flashlight so I can see the bully for what it is, a bully.

I may never be rid of those voices. They will always try to tear me down with their poison words. They will always try to keep me frozen in a state of worthlessness. But just because I still hear them doesn’t mean I have to believe the whispered lies they speak when they tell me I have no value.

Hearing the whispered lies that say you’re worthless doesn’t automatically mean they are true.

Acknowledging and bringing to light that these whispers are lies, begins to loosen the grip of fear, insecurity and despair these voices cause. In acknowledging and being open about the fact that I feel no sense of value, it starts taking the “scary” away from the bully hiding in the shadows. I am hiding away no longer.

Image Credit: martinak15

About
Latest Posts

Leila Elizabeth

Always a lover of words, I began reading them at a young age, and began creating with them shortly thereafter.

A bend in the road led me to embrace my introversion, and to discover my identity as a highly sensitive person. As I have moved along the path in learning more about who I am, how to take care of myself as an introvert, and how to handle the challenges of life as an HSP - my love of writing has been rekindled and embraced once again. It intertwines with the journey I am on, and is reflected in what I write.