|—||Kate DiCamillo (via eroticasa)|
|—||Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol.2: 1934-1939 (via violentwavesofemotion)|
I love Addictive Thinking by Abraham J. Twerski! I love a lot of things lately. This is from someone else’s blog.
Most emotional problems that are not of physical origin are related, in one way or another, to low self-esteem. Low self-esteem refers to the negative feelings people have about themselves that are not justified by fact. In other words, while some people have a distorted self-perception that includes grandiose delusions about themselves, people with low self-esteem have delusions of inferiority, incompetence, and worthlessness. Strangely enough, these feelings of inadequacy are often particularly intense in people who are the most gifted.
If our perceptions of ourselves are incorrect, we will probably be prone to maladjustment. We can only adjust to reality if we have an accurate perception of it. We create a major component of our own reality, and if we have an unrealistic view of ourselves, we have distorted reality.
I have not yet come across any chemically dependent people who did not have feelings of inferiority that antedated their chemical use. Sometimes they feel inadequate or unworthy in every facet of their lives, and sometimes they may feel very competent in their particular area of expertise, but inadequate and unworthy as a human being, a spouse, a partner, or a parent.
Some people react to feelings of low self-esteem by escaping from life’s challenges and distresses into chemicals, and some may find a redeeming feelings of worth and adequacy by being the sober and controlling or suffering significant other of a chemically dependent person.
“When you live in complete acceptance of what is, that is the end of all drama in your life.”
I love this.
“The world should fear the humble, because [he] who serves the master of truth must disobey all other authorities.”
How do you love another through their brokenness? I’ve noticed that my heart gets so beat up and bruised simply by the slightest unkind glance from another human being. If someone throws a rock either accidentally or on purpose, that’s it. I feel my sense of value melt away. I will tell my true self, “go back inside,” and I think then I will be safe. But the quiet corridors of my heart are only beautiful when I don’t spend the depth of every single night there. Otherwise my heart acts as a prison, and I will bang on the bars as if I wasn’t the one who locked myself in.
|—||David Foster Wallace, The Pale King (via wellearnedsoul)|
|—||Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms (via violentwavesofemotion)|