When I recognized that I was addicted to my anger, I realized it was sustained by my internal narrative. I used a lot of nasty words to describe myself during my mental arguments. As Gary John Bishop said in his book Unf*ck Yourself, we are constantly having internal conversations whether we realize it or not. There was no escape from this negative internal narrative. When I recognized the hatred being spewed at myself non-stop, I knew I needed to focus on changing my internal narrative.
We are dealing with a chronic illness, so we are busy fighting/managing our bodies. For some of us, we are also fighting our minds which makes our journey to wellness that much harder. When our bodies betray us via exacerbations or normal symptoms, it’s easy for our negative internal narrative to rise up and leave us wanting to give up. I wanted to share my experience with my negative internal narrative and how it led to moments of self-defeat. At the end of this post, you’ll find more detailed suggestions for dealing with your own narrative.
Content warning: there will be talk about self-hatred and self-destructive behaviors. In the section “Using the word ‘Hate'” you will find adult language as part of negative self-talk. If you find this discussion triggering, please do not read any further. If you or someone you know engages in self-harm, please know that you can get help.
When the Internal Narrative is Negative
From childhood, I had a negative internal narrative. I was taught from the very beginning that I was fundamentally flawed as a person. Every time I did something “wrong,” it had to do with me being irredeemably bad. Thoughts were not separate from actions, so if I had a negative thought it was the same as though I acted out on it.
As a child, I learned to mentally flog myself. While I was taught that I had the means to get out of my “badness,” I still had to follow a strict code of behaviors, thoughts, and actions. Deviation from that code meant I regressed into “badness,” and I was to prevent that at all cost. Mentally berating myself helped me manage any external conversations about my behavior because I pre-empted the impetus of the discussion. I took the power out of the other side by mentally hating myself and regained a sense of control.
What I was doing in those moments was setting myself up for a lifetime of self-hatred that I am just now starting to unlearn and heal from.
An example: as a child on the playground, someone would say something mean to me. If I had a thought of “well, I hope you fall over and hurt yourself” as a means of coping with my hurt feelings, this was considered a moment of being naughty. I wished harm on someone, and this was wrong by the code taught to me.
Because I wasn’t allowed to have a “bad” thought, I had no way to manage my hurt feelings. Desiring for a bully to get hurt, provided I didn’t actually retaliate, wasn’t a bad thing. It was a healthy way to acknowledge they hurt me and I wanted them to feel the hurt back. It may have naturally led to understanding why the bully was mean: they were already hurting and taking their pain out on me.
Instead, when they said something mean and I thought about them getting hurt; I realized that my desire to see them get hurt was “wrong;” and therefore, the bully was right about me: I was whatever horrible thing they said I was. So it wasn’t just the bully picking on me, I was picking on myself. If I told anyone about the bully and my thoughts immediately after the incident, it was reinforced that these thoughts were wrong.
The internal voice I developed over my childhood was angry and reflected the judgments I heard by adults. Often the judgments weren’t directed at me, but at others in similar situations as myself. I would compare myself to the people in these judgment scenarios and recognize a lot of similarities in myself: “that person claims to be following a specific code of conduct, but look what they are doing. It’s so hypocritical.”
Oh, I would think to myself. I always wanted to do that thing they are doing. I guess that makes me bad because I feel/act that way in private. In those moments, my shame increased and my internal voice would get louder about how bad I was as a person.
This angry, negative internal narrative turned me into a bitter, anxious, and stressed-out person. I burnt out fast. This lead to a deep depression in my early twenties where I struggled to get anything done in my life. Every missed opportunity was not a learning experience but a personal failure. Every failure was fuel to my “I feel worthless” fire. Rather than persevering in the face of self-doubt and failure, I gave in and wallowed in the thoughts of how I was a bad person.