What was hardest thing that you had to admit to yourself?

Oh wow…do I have to pick just one?

I suppose it was admitting that I am just not that smart. In fact, I’m probably of below-average intelligence.

Or perhaps it was admitting to myself that everything that is important to me means nothing, and I will be gone from existence in the blink of an eye and nobody will give a shit.

That everything is absurd. I’ve been happier ever since.

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Penguin dust.

I had to do a LOT of work admitting to myself that I was assaulted. I had buried it so deep in order to function in life that it became non-existent for a time.

I’m a lot like my father. Even now I shudder at the thought. It’s true, like it or not.

There is a wonderfully beautiful part to you. I see it.

That I have bipolar disorder, and that it’s not going to go away. I’m going to be reliant on medication all my life to remain stable.

That I was depressed and suicidal, and needed help.

That the scar tissue on my lower spine is not going away and there is nothing to help it.

What does this mean? It means that the rest of my life will be taking muscle relaxers and pain pills, in which I hate.

No surgery will help it, only add to my misery.

Am I crying in my beer? Maybe.

In college I realized that I wasn’t nearly as smart as the brilliant students that I competed with.

It forced me to take a critical look at my total self. I think that I suddenly saw myself as others saw me and it was very painful. But it was helpful to me as I moved forward in life to realize my true potential at a few steps below being brilliant, special or good looking.

I make up for my weaknesses with dedicated hard work, perseverance and kindness.

One time, many years ago, I was homicidal and suicidal and checked myself into a facility to ‘get a grip.’ It was very scary to admit to myself that if someone didn’t watch me, I could seriously hurt another person (it was one particular person) intentionally, willingly and probably enjoy it. I needed time to myself to just get over my pain and reach the real me again. That was scary.

Now, it pains me to admit that I am a door mat and have no life and I let it happen. I’m hoping it changes one day, and I am trying to take a long-time-view of my situation.

Lately I had to admit that some of my previously strong held beliefs were really bigotry. It may have taken me 50 years, but I guess you can teach an old dog….

I have had to admit that I was not the mother I should have been. I’m ashamed that I smoked and drank during my pregnancies and didn’t use car seats. When I see what amazing parents my children are I have to wonder at how they turned out so great.

That I was never going to be much more than a captain in the military because I detested the politics involved. That I was never going to be a vice-president at the international company where I worked because I detested the politics involved. That my private company was never going to be very successful because it was under-capitolized.

I often wonder what might have become of me if any of those options might have crystalized, but then again I suspect that wouldn’t have been nearly as happy. They say the steps of one declared righteous by God are ordered by him, so I try very hard to never complain, but specualting on “what if” is well nigh impossible to avoid.

@Judi

The apple never falls very far from the tree, nice lady. : )

@cazzie

[ HUGGGGG ] Thought you needed that. : )

@tom_g

I do.

That I am never going to accomplish all the things that I had intended and hoped to.

Bad things happen to good people.

Judi, the good part is that you now recognize the bad parts of your past life and are doing something about it.

Hats off to you!

@CaptainHarley you’re such a badass. Seriously. I hope I’m as cool as you when I’m your age.

Divorced at 30yrs old, no dream job, few other skills and no money- I had to admit to myself I probably wasn’t ever going to become of any reknown and to find some other points of interest than the business I’d had. I had quite the identity meltdown and admiting mediocrity was only a begining. Accepting a “normal life” took another decade in itself.

For the first two years of having my disease I was stubborn as hell about it. It was not going to hold me back in any way, shape, or form, period. A nice sentiment but not a realistic one. It resulted in me really abusing myself because I would live my life as though I were not sick even when I was direly ill, would not give myself a break. Took a near death experience to finally convince me that I needed to pay some special considerations to my well-being and not push myself quite so hard. That was really hard to admit, but my life is better now that I treat myself more kindly.

I don’t think I’ve ever really had problems admitting things to myself. sharing it with other people is a different story though

If I ever want other people to take me seriously, I have to learn to take myself seriously.
This is something that I feel holds be back and it wasn’t until fairly recently that I realized it. I work on it everyday, but at times I find myself wondering, “What’s the point? No one will ever take me seriously, anyway”. It’s been difficult so far, and I don’t expect it to get any easier, but I’ve accepted that.

One of the most difficult, and yet most freeing things I’ve ever had to admit was that I was an enabler in a relationship.

Several…
Just because I’m right doesn’t mean I win.
Being nice is not the equivalent of being a doormat.
People don’t respect me because I don’t expect it.
Just because others are uncomfortable with my intensity doesn’t mean I am wrong.
My intensity and many other traits are part of me- for better or worse.

If I don’t live my life for myself, own my life and who I am, and if I continue to live others’ expectations and rules—I will become a very angry, bitter and resentful old lady. That’s up to me.