Shut Up Brain!

[joelozano]

Art by @mapartche on Instagram

[Posted privately on my FB. I originally wrote on January 1, 2025 after having a panic attack]

Oof… this one hits way too close to home right now.

I’ve been struggling for a while now, but lately, it’s become an almost daily battle — questioning everything. The things I create. The choices I’ve made. The person I am. And no matter how I turn it over in my head, it always comes back to one dark, familiar thought: I will never be good enough.

It’s exhausting. And if I’m being honest with myself, I know exactly why I feel this way. I’ve got two major flaws that I can’t seem to shake:

1) I constantly knock myself down.

2) I’m an über perfectionist.

The first one started as a defense mechanism back in school — you know, survival mode. I thought, “If I make fun of myself first, if I tear myself down before anyone else can, maybe it won’t hurt as much.” And for a while, it worked. Or at least, I thought it did.

But somewhere along the line, that “survival tactic” became something darker. It planted this seed of self-doubt that’s only grown over time. That’s why I struggle to accept compliments. It’s not that I don’t appreciate them — I do. But deep down, there’s this voice in my head that whispers, “They don’t really mean it. You don’t deserve it.”

That voice of self-doubt doesn’t stop there. It feeds into my perfectionism.
I’m brutal with myself. My own worst critic. I hold myself to impossible standards, and nothing I do ever feels good enough. No matter how hard I work or how much I accomplish, I’m always chasing some unreachable version of “perfect.” I push myself until I’m exhausted, frustrated, and questioning everything.
And eventually, that same thought creeps back in: “I’ll never be good enough.”

The hardest part is that I know I don’t treat others this way. I’m kind and supportive to everyone I meet, yet somehow, I can’t extend that same compassion to myself. Somewhere along the way, I became my own worst enemy. My own tormentor.

And I hate it. I wish I weren’t like this.
I deserve better — from myself.

And maybe it’s time I start believing that, too.

Comments

They mean it. You deserve it.

[november_5th]

Oh hi, me.

I'm pretty sure I wrote this a few days ago. Not this this, of course, but the same sentiment.

Excerpt #1:
"I needed to be exceptional because "ordinary" felt like "disposable."
I thought the most interesting version of me was the only lovable one.
I didn’t trust that the quiet version could ever be enough."

Excerpt #2:
"I sought out those who were as broken as me, who loved as recklessly as me — who gave me a glimpse of a depth that might mean they could accept mine.

And I tried to rescue them. Because, if I could save them, then maybe I could save myself. Or maybe, I wouldn't need to.

Maybe it would be proof: that I was capable enough. Helpful enough. Loved enough. Smart enough. Worthy enough.

If I could love someone into wholeness, maybe there was hope for me."

Excerpt 3:
"That fear still lingers, the one that says unless I'm extraordinary in some way — brilliant, broken, or intense — I'll be forgettable.

I thought I had to earn love. That being loved wasn't a given, it was a prize for being remarkable. That my value was in how deeply I thought, how much I helped, how beautifully I suffered.

And I didn't just want to be loved. I needed to matter.

These days, I am still negotiating my worth. But the truth I'm learning is:

I don't need to be exceptional to be worthy.
I don't need to be effortless to be lovable.
I don't need to be palatable to be kept.

It still feels wrong.

But I'm working on believing it."

All this to say, joelozano, you don't have to burn yourself just to stay warm. It sounds like you built an entire identity around mastering the truth, around being the one who already knows. The one who sees all the patterns. The meaning behind it all. The one who is the most capable.

And because you need to be seen that way, it seems like you've built a gallery of masks. And you hold up those masks, judging it and judging yourself before anyone else can. If someone thinks you are not enough, or too much, you can just point to your writing and say, "Yeah? Tell me something I don't already know."

But what you're really avoiding is being known in the absence of performance. To be known in the boring moments. In the silence. In the "nothing to explain" spaces.

Those are the scary spaces. ...you still fear you're forgettable.

You don't need to meet this arbitrary bar to be good enough. You wouldn't demand the same things of your loved ones. Based on how hard you've been striving, I guarantee you, you are enough.

Instead of, "What do I need to do to meet expectations", begin asking yourself: "What does life look like when no one has to bleed for it?"