I have never believed I am good enough. My father constantly would talk about this dream in which I, as a baby, was labeled a genius. Then he made it clear that I had failed. He never praised me that I can remember. It’s probably not abuse in most people’s minds, but it’s a kind of neglect.
I’ve done a lot of work in therapy, but the idea, deep inside me, that I’m no good is difficult to dislodge. In relationships, this has caused me to push away partners before they could leave, since it was inevitable they would leave when they found out I was no good. In work, I’ve stayed a long time at jobs with low pay, just because they would hire me, believing it’s a fluke and no one else would pay me. These would also be jobs where no one ever told me I was doing a good job.
Sometimes people say I’m a good writer, but while I might believe them, in that deep place, I don’t, because I never try to do any writing for sale. No one would ever buy my writing and even if they did, I’d never get anything done, so there’s really no point. I’m not an individualist kind of guy. I can’t think of anything on my own. I’m only able to think if someone asks me a question. So I hang out in a little backwoods, off-the-beaten-track part of the internet answering a few questions, hoping that it might mean something important to a person here or there. Sometimes people actually do say that something I said helped them. It’s a novel experience. It’s hard to enjoy. I just don’t really think of myself as being competent. Often I think it’s a trick.
But sometimes I can get beyond this horrible sense of no-goodness and actually appreciate someone else’s appreciation. Sometimes I do feel accepted unconditionally, without judgment, knowing all my failures. Sometimes I almost half believe I’ve helped someone in an important way, just by being me. Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks.