That’s not my shit….

Want a big shift in thinking? Sort out what shit is yours.

This was a massive ground breaking shift in my thinking and recovery. I sat there and really thought about being a baby. At one stage, I was a tiny newborn baby. A baby cannot be bad. It simply can’t. I had walked around for my whole life with a feeling, deep inside that I was bad. I was so convinced I was bad at the core I would go over and above anything to try and counteract it. Codependents are fixers and pleasers and for me, it was trying to fix as a way to feel valued and do good so I felt better.
Need a lift 5 miles away? Pick me.
My last bit of washing powder? Sure!
You’ve got a date and need a babysitter? Gladly, don’t worry…and I’ll cook them dinner too!

The list was endless, I helped everyone. The feeling subsided for a bit (while I was doing the good thing) but it just seemed I was so bad, so rotten inside it just came back.
So there I was. Probably after one of my many heart breaking relationship terminations. Really thinking about what exactly I had done to make me such a bad person. So I sat down and wrote out every single thing I said about myself. Thick, slag, ugly, not good enough the list was endless, I cried ( I would never say these about my worst enemy). So where had this come from?

For sure I could determine I was born good. I have three kids and fully believe we are born good. Babies are gorgeous and innocent and perfect and I was too.

Right, so what happened next?

OK..parents split. Not news, did it when I was 7. Having a degree in Psychology means I KNOW this does have implications on kids, and adults. There is a possibility that as a child I adopted (without knowing) the thought that if I was special, he would have stayed.

Absent father…nut job mother. I thought I had the best mum in the world. All my mates would say how lucky I am. None of my friends mums would let them bring 23yr old men home at 13!!! They all had to explain where they were when they stayed out, they had to go to school. Lucky me!!! What this did was let me know my worth, it is just a different form of abuse.

Rolling on twenty years later…the things people had said and done to me. All sorts, every name under the sun. Some got brushed under the carpet and forgotten about some I still carried around.

So I thought, who’s is this shit? That’s not my shit, for sure, that’s not my shit. I’ve done nothing bad, I was a pickle, probably a bit mean in school, a bit roughty toughty but nothing drastic.

The parents…not my shit. That was definitely their shit. They fucked up, they could’ve handled things much better if only they had known. The older men preying on a vulnerable girl, not my shit. I took it to mean I was a slut, I must look like a slut otherwise why would they prey on me? But it didn’t mean that, that was their shit. Their behaviour, their reasons and guess what? Not my shit.

The violent men who said I was only ever good enough for a fuck. Guess what? Not my shit either, their shit. They needed me to think that because they felt like shit, so there was big shit mess instead of them getting help.

I went through the whole lot, every thing. And you know what? Most of it wasn’t my shit. Yet here I was a big bag of shit, hating myself because every mean person gave me their shit. And I took it, ate it all up like a hungry shit eating insect. Thinking through every mean thing I thought/felt about myself and deciding where it came from was probably the best thing I have ever done. I wasn’t interested why they did/said whatever. It was purely taking ownership of what was mine. I gave it back, I said that’s not mine and that’s not fair and I will not let anybody smear their shit around my soul again. With practice and patience you can tell when someone is giving your their shit, you do not have to eat it. You can say “thanks poppet, I can’t carry your shit around, it’s not yours either, You can stop carrying this shit around too”

Brings new meaning to the phrase “I’m not taking your shit”

So what if it is your shit? When it is your shit, apologise “I’m sorry for giving you that shit, I hope you didn’t carry it around”

Claire in year 9, we had a fight. I gave you my shit. I’m sorry, it was mine. If you carried it around…give it back x

Practice….”that sir/madame is not my shit”

If you need help get in touch for a 1-1 appointment.