Apr 2, 2011
I can do it.
My counselor told me to put little signs around the house with truths that I need to believe to replace the lies I've been listening to. One of the lies I've believed is that "I can't do it." It took various forms at different times. Sometimes it was, "I can't do anything." Or sometimes, "I can't do anything right."
I think my counselor had post it notes in mind when she told me this, but I've been trying to feed my creativity, so I decided that an evening spent painting would feed that creative part of me while I remind myself of the truth that "I can do it."
I found it especially interesting that I felt so insecure in my ability to paint an adequate representation of myself. The reminder that "I can do it" was something that I needed to hear. My painting doesn't have to be perfect. I can do this.
Finding fault with everything I do is a gift that I have. My kids surrounded me as I painted and they listened to me doubt myself: "It's too dark," "It doesn't look quite right," "I look too serious." My daughter, wise beyond her years, said to me, "Mom, when you talk like that about your painting, it hurts us."
I didn't quite hear what she was saying until after she went to bed. When I doubt myself, when I tell myself that I can't do anything right, when they see me and think what I'm doing is pretty good but hear me pronounce it bad, then I am hurting them. I need to tell myself that I can do it to be healthy. I need to tell them that I can do it so that they can be healthy. So that they can do it too.