[Joely]

I feel nervous writing this, very nervous indeed. It's not often I share these kinds of things publicly. I think I'm just going to write about this as a form of release. I hope you don't mind and thanks for reading.

Since the podcast was released I've been in a kind of spiral. It began with feeling deeply anxious on Sunday, through to today, when I've been in what I can only describe as a vortex of self-hate. I knew, a month ago, that I would probably have a very strong reaction to the podcast, and indeed anything good to do with my writing, so I've been prepared for it to some extent.

You can see here I'm trying to be honest without sounding like I'm whining...

I grew up in a world where I walked a tightrope between success and failure. At home everything had to be perfect the first time around, or violence followed. I was first punched in the face when I was four. Academic success was seen as essential, and I did my very best to be as good as I possibly could. I swung between two parents: a violent father and a mother who berated me constantly for being too confident, too this, too that. I think by the time I got to school I spent all my time living in a cage of fear, terrified that the slightest wrong move would lead to terrible consequences. Then I was sent to a failing high school, and I was the only one there really motivated to succeed. By then I thought the only thing I had in the world was my academic success, and I was desperate to go university. My teachers told me that if I persisted in getting high grades, I deserved to be bullied. At the same time, my brother developed dyslexia, and suddenly I was completely shunned from the family because my parents were frightened that he would feel that he wasn't "good enough" because I was so successful at school.

I didn't realise until recently that I've spent a lifetime desperately trying to please everybody around me, including the idea that I have to suffer constantly for every ounce of success I experience. The guilt I feel is enormous, I'm dragging it around like a rock. While I could tolerate academic success because it was expected, every time something positive happened with my writing, I didn't just feel bad, I'd end up doing terrible things to myself. The pain, the hurt, the shame and the guilt were all too much to bear.

The last five years I've dedicated myself to healing. I had been severely depressed and anorexic most of my life when I spontaneously walked away from starvation. It was a massive step for me, because anorexia was one of the ways I felt I could succeed but still be suffering. I've read every book out there, from Sharma to Tolle to Chodron and then been to classes in Buddhism to meditate and relax. I've also been using Holosync and the Sedona Method, as well as The Work of Byron Katie to start to heal myself. It's uphill work, since a lot of the time I don't feel I even deserve to do that work. I find myself recalling how difficult it is for my brother every day (he can't read or write), and all the people who struggle to do the things I've done so easily, and I'm reminded of all the times I was told that I didn't deserve it or made to feel bad for it.

I've locked myself into a cage trying to please the whole world, even if it means I end up bankrupt. I can feel this small, frightened person inside me desperately not knowing which way to turn: if I did well I was criticised, if I failed I was criticised, whatever I did always seemed to fall short. And nothing more so than my beloved writing. I've always lived in imaginary worlds, created fantasies out of nothing. And every time something good happens, I fall apart. I remember doing CBT a while ago and reached the conclusion that there really was no arguing with that negative voice: somehow it's singled me out as different, worthy of punishment in a way nobody else is. I'm trying, very hard, to bear the pain of the world on my back and well, it's not working out.

There is a logical part of me that says all of this is a story I need to drop, that I'm not being anywhere near rational. Unfortunately, right now that's a small voice buried under a mountain of guilt and shame. I feel as though the very things that give my life purpose and meaning are the things I'm supposed to deny and reject. I'm aware it's a very twisted world view: the last year or so I seem to have split in half, with this old view and this new view hanging in the balance between each other, like two creatures on opposite sides of a chasm, staring each other down. This was the first time I went into an activity to do something with my writing (the podcasts), aware of how I react, and in a sense, wanting to see what would become of it. In the past I haven't really understood why I reacted the way I did, but this has given me an opportunity to see the things that drive me into these states. There is an Osho quote I have somewhere about the art of going into a breakdown consciously, in order to learn what causes it. I suppose in some ways that's what I've done here. I knew it would be extremely tough, emotionally and mentally. Yet still I carry on going, even when I really would rather cave in and give up. I know, even at my worst, that when I release that feeling, whatever's underneath it, that it's gone.

I learn a great deal about myself reading this forum. I can see elements of myself in everybody who posts here, so I'm very grateful for that. Thank you for reading.