But Looking Back, the One Who’s Been Mistreating Me the Most Was Myself
I spent so much of my life trying to avoid mistreatment. I was careful with the people I let in, cautious with my trust, and always on guard. I feared being hurt, being used, being taken for granted. I built walls, strong enough to keep even the cruelest hands away from me. I thought that if I tried hard enough, if I was careful enough, I could stop the world from mistreating me.
But looking back, the one who’s been mistreating me the most was myself.
How could I have not realized it sooner? How did I spend years protecting myself from others while letting my own thoughts destroy me from within? How did I fight so hard against external cruelty, only to turn around and be just as cruel to myself?
I was the one who dismissed my own pain, convincing myself that I was just being too sensitive. I was the one who silenced my own cries for help, telling myself that I didn’t deserve to be heard. I was the one who forced myself to keep going even when I was exhausted, whispering that rest was a luxury I hadn't earned.
I was my own worst critic. I picked apart every mistake, replaying them in my mind until they felt unbearable. I convinced myself that I wasn’t enough—never enough, no matter how hard I tried. I compared myself to others, belittling my own progress, making my achievements feel small and insignificant.
I thought I was protecting myself, but in truth, I was punishing myself.
I would never speak to a friend the way I spoke to myself. I would never let someone I love carry the weight of such harsh words, such relentless pressure. And yet, I allowed it for myself. I allowed the voices in my head to be the loudest, even when they only spoke in cruelty.
Why?
Why did I feel the need to be unkind to myself too? Why did I believe that I deserved this kind of treatment?
Maybe because it was familiar. Maybe because, at some point, I had learned that being hard on myself was the only way to survive. Maybe I thought that if I didn’t push myself, if I didn’t demand more, I would never be enough for this world.
But I was wrong.
I didn’t deserve to be my own enemy. I didn’t deserve to be the source of my own suffering. And I don’t have to live like this anymore.
I am trying—trying to unlearn the habit of mistreating myself. Trying to be patient with myself the way I am with others. Trying to remind myself that I am worthy of kindness, even from me.
I am learning to listen when I am tired and allow myself to rest. I am learning to celebrate my achievements without minimizing them. I am learning to speak to myself gently, to silence the cruel voice that tells me I am never enough.
Because the truth is, I have always been enough. I just never let myself believe it.
So now, as I look back, I forgive myself for all the years I spent being my own worst enemy. And as I look forward, I promise myself this: I will try to be better. I will try to be softer. I will try to be kinder.
Because I deserve it. Because I always have.
