Over the past few days I’ve been given some thought to what I deserve and what I’ve earned. For most of my life, I’ve had a hard time believing that I deserve good things or that I deserve to be happy. As I’ve gotten older and (hopefully) wiser, I’ve wondered if this is nature or nurture, which is a topic that I’ve brought up a few times in my entries.

Whenever I think about me not deserving good things, one specific memory comes to me. For one of my birthdays, I don’t know which one exactly, but I don’t think I was a teenager yet, I was told that I would be getting a television. I remember the TV very clearly. It was tan with a black and white picture. It still had knobs and an antenna. But, the story isn’t that I was gifted a TV. The story is that I protested it. Not because I wanted something different, but because I didn’t deserve it. Or at least, that’s what I kept telling my parents. I don’t know what triggered my lack of worth there, but I remember being very adamant about not being worthy of such a gift.

A different example of a time when I felt a need to suffer was later in life. If I have the timeframe correct, I had just turned 30 and had recently received some bad news. I remember locking myself in my room all day, with the lights out, the air conditioner not turned on (in late July), and just watching some movies. But, this wasn’t for enjoyment. This was designed to make myself feel worse and to deepen my depression. I felt a sense of satisfaction for this one though, because I succeeded in making myself suffer more by not being comfortable all day.

Where does this come from? Why have I been like this? My parents definitely contributed. But, again, is it nature or nurture? One of them attempted treatment for mental health issues. The other wouldn’t acknowledge they exist. Their own issues would get projected upon me, but also the way they treated me would add to it. Is that nature? Is that nurture? I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth trying to figure out.

It wasn’t just my parents. I had a difficult time in school. While I was struggling with undiagnosed social anxieties and probably attention deficit issues, I would be mocked by classmates, put down by teachers, and punished by parents. In some ways, I was being punished just for being me.

I don’t know how in-depth that I want to get into some things here because I can already feel my anxiety rising just by what I’ve typed already. Yes, I know that it means that I’m touching on issues that I probably need to discuss more often, but I don’t know if now is the time.

Changing gears slightly, but keeping on topic, over the past few years, I’ve found new levels of comfort, enjoyment, and even some happiness. I say “some happiness” because I think “happy” is a like the platinum level of joy that I rarely attain. Although, then again maybe my programming doesn’t allow me to feel true happiness. See, I can’t get too far from the original topic in this entry.

As I attempt to keep on the positive note that I started in the last paragraph, I’m really grateful for a few people that have pointed out (some multiple times) how good that they think I have it, how the things I do are actually interesting, how I’ve lived a fun life, and how I’m doing good things. What I’ve realized about their observations about me is that the things that they’re talking about aren’t things that have happened recently, they’re things that have been happening for a while. In some cases, decades. But, I haven’t been able to fully enjoy them due to my inability to feel happiness and my need to suffer.

But here’s the thing, I’ve truly had some great moments over the past few years. I’ve often mentioned how “surreal” that certain aspects of my life are. I have such an appreciation for where I am now. I’m starting to believe that good things are actually good. I’m starting to believe that I’m allowed to have good things. Do I deserve this? I don’t know. Have I earned it? Maybe.

I’ve also noticed that the more and more that I do the things that I enjoy, the less that I doubt that I should be doing them. The less that I doubt, the more that I want to do. However, with all of that is still the voice in my head that reminds me that I “can’t” and that quitting is easier. I don’t hear that voice as much as I used to, but it’s still there.

Social media has been a great thing for me. From my days on AOL in the 1990s, to MySpace in the aughts, Facebook and others sites in 2010s and onward, they’ve helped me connect to people that have similar interests and needs. I’ve made legitimate lifelong friends from social media. And I think the point that I’m trying to make here is that by surrounding myself (even in a virtual world) with people who encourage me to be me instead of mocking me, putting me down, or insulting me for being me is what I needed all along. Who knows?

Maybe I should give less thought to where I’ve been and worry more about where I am now. Notice that I said “worry about where I am now” instead of focus. But regardless of how I worded that last sentence, I don’t want to not think about where I’ve been. Good, bad, or indifferent, where I’ve been got to me to where I am. And where I am is good. Or at least, it’s a lot better than it’s been before, and I want to stay here. I think I deserve it. Maybe, I’ve earned it.