My Happy Self

“The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice.” – Peggy O’Mara

“Look in the mirror. Look! Don’t you see how fat and sloppy you look?”

“I don’t know why you have any friends.”

 “Why are you so happy? Calm down!”

“Why are you so sad? You’re so dramatic.”

“No one is trying to hurt your feelings, Nikieta. Stop being so sensitive.”

“………..”  (extend for 3 months)

                My inner voice is the voice of self-doubt and self-degradation. While my father and I dreamed dreams for my life of success, leadership, artistic freedom, and joy, my mother was hard at work to overshadow those dreams with premonitions of loneliness, rejection, failure (my own fault, of course), and regret.

My mother: This is the woman I so badly wanted to love me. This is the woman who was supposed to care for me unconditionally. My mother, who was supposed to provide me with my identity and how to live life as a woman in this world and cheer for me as I ran the race of life, jumping over many hurdles and falling over others.  

My mother.

              It was my mother’s voice that won the war for the homeland of my heart, and as she took residence within me, she took it upon herself to create a civil war. I was her favored child when it was time for the adults to compare their offspring. She could spout off my achievements and even embarrassingly embellished them. 

1. Student body president

2. Black belt

3. Look at her amazing legs. 

4. AP and Honors classes

5. Going to Hampton University

6. Such a good cook

7. A talented writer

8. Won awards for public speaking

9. Boys love to look at her

10. Sings in the school chorus

When the guests went home (My mother scarcely let anyone into our home.) Whenever we left the public eye, my mother would angle the rear view mirror ever so precisely to allow her eyes to pinpoint me as she would ridicule me the whole ride home. She would debrief me on how I laughed too much or not enough. I shared a detail too personal about our lives (like how we buy our groceries from Wal-Mart). Or maybe I ate too much bread, and she needed to remind me that I was on my way to being, "as big as a house". If none of those were the case, then it was definitely the time to reiterate how boring I am in social situations and how I fit the mold for becoming a librarian. 

Then, there was the silence. Maybe we would ride home with no talking. If that was the case, I was not allowed to break the silence. Breaking the silence would result in a painful stare, a short and severe response, or the beginning of a long lecture...none of which were pleasant. 

As you can imagine, the frequent and quick script changes for how my mother would address and describe me caused quite a bit of confusion. 

Then there is the face I would put on for the outsiders. My peers and mentors have always known me as quick-minded, well-spoken, capable, and over achieving. For me, though, all the achievements were only to prove I'm not a waste of space. I'm not incompetent, and I am worthy of acknowledgement. 

I've always known that I am talented. I've always known I am capable of something special. I've always known I can do whatever I put my mind to doing, but I've always doubted anyone would care to see it. 

My mother has always had a strong personality, and my family just realized last year that her personality has a name: Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I've lived under her torment for 26 years, and I'm just recently figuring out how to get untangled from her grasp. 

• As I graduated college, my inner voice whispered, “You’re going to fail and be a waste of money and time”.
• As I landed my dream career, my inner voice grumbled, “You will never advance and always struggle financially. You’re untrainable.”
• As I married the man of my dreams, my inner voice questioned my ability to love him and be loveable. “Is THIS how you treat the love of your life? He will be unhappy and wish he’d never married you.”

No matter how hard I fight to live a life full of joy, surrounding myself with uplifting people and loving mentors, my inner voice cheers jeers from the sidelines.

As my subconscious tries to trip me up and keep me chained to my 10 year old self, ever fearful of my mother’s disapproval, I have to remind myself I am no longer a child. I am no longer in my mother’s house. I am no longer under her reign.

I’m an adult, and my life is amazing.

This Summer, I'm evolving into my happy self. Every word of that goal is important. 

MY- I will not be anyone but God's and my husband's....and that is because I am giving myself to them. I will not be some image of what my mother (or anyone else) wants to portray me as. 

HAPPY- I was diagnosed in 2014 with a severe anxiety disorder, depression, and ADHD. Now that I know, I have tools to manage them, and I'm learning more every day about how to use them. I'm the program director of an AMAZING preschool in Norfolk, VA, and I am set to be the Executive Director in 2 years. I was married in 2014, and my husband and I communicate. We love each other deeply, and we fight fair (mostly...we're learning). We are new home owners! My 3 year old niece and my aunt are coming to visit us at different points during the Summer. I am in the best physical shape of my adult life. I still find ways to feel sad and to play the old recording of my inner voice....but #allsummersixteen will be devoted to being happy. I have much to be happy about, and there is no room for my old inner voice. 

Self- Who is myself? I've always been my mother's. What do I like? If I'm not fearful of someone thinking I'm boring or someone analyzing what I ordered off of the menu or picking apart my wardrobe, what does Nikieta like? What do I want to look like? Where do I want to go? I'm almost 27 years old, and I don't know what I like. This isn't in the "I'm discovering myself because I'm young" way. This is the, "I've had to like what my mom likes or she wouldn't like me any more" way. 

Not only that, I’m letting go of grief. I’ve been grieving for about 1.5 years now over the mother I wish I had. I’ve been reliving every silent treatment, every harsh word and public shaming. I’ve wept on Mother’s Days over the mother that was incapable of loving me with a mother’s love, and I’ve mourned what I missed out on…I never really had a mom. So, I’m stopping the grief. I’m not losing anything. I’m gaining freedom. I’m gaining ownership of my life, and this Summer I’m gaining and owning an evolution.

I have to.

I'm going to evolve into my happy self, and this blog will help me do that.

Writing makes me happy, but commitment makes me scared because my inner voice tells me I'm a flake, and I won't be good at following through.

 Even now, writing this blog, I keep thinking, "I will be everyone's least favorite contributor. Why am I even doing this? This is a joke. Are your thoughts even coherent? No one cares about your journey. You're actually not even that interesting or that good of a writer." 

This summer, I'm taking chances unapologetically, and I will stop living under my mother's looming shadow. 

I am my own person.  (My own grown person)

I matter. 

I will be happy. 

I will be my happy self.