“Loving yourself starts with liking yourself, which starts with respecting yourself, which starts with thinking of yourself in positive ways.” ~Jerry Corsten
Useless. Hopeless. Broken.
This was how I saw myself.
I didn’t completely loathe myself, but I didn’t like myself either. At best, I tolerated myself.
I felt I had good reasons to.
I’d gotten myself into, as we say in England, a right old pickle.
If you’re not familiar with this charming expression, I had gotten myself into a big mess.
In my early twenties, over a painful period of about eighteen months, I’d gradually buried myself in personal debt with several pay-day loan companies.
The ever-growing pressure to pay off this debt played havoc on my mental health. I often found myself running into the work toilet to secretly have panic attacks, throwing water on my face like a madman, and reassuring myself that I wasn’t losing my sanity. I was suffering, and misguidedly, I’d convinced myself I would have to suffer alone.
To make myself feel better, each week I partied from Thursday through to Sunday, chain smoking and knocking back pint after pint of Guinness. Or anything else that was available. I wasn’t fussy.
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