Point, counterpoint, actual point

Most of us know the feeling. That voice inside our heads telling us we’re wrong. Lazy. Stupid. Not trying hard enough. Hurting others. Selfish. Overly sensitive.

This is not an autistic thing. I’m sure everyone feels that way on occasion.

And we don’t deserve to.

The Point, Counterpoint, Actual Point project is a collaborative blog series asking us to re-examine the ways in which we believe we’re not good enough, to reduce self-doubt and promote acceptance of ourselves. For some background, you can read the post that kicked off the project on the blog notesoncrazy.com.

© Veronica Foale - Flickr.com

© Veronica Foale – Flickr.com

Sounds good, don’t you think? And you can participate. All you need to do is write something in the following format.

POINT: A thing you believe about yourself or want to believe about yourself if you can be very honest.

COUNTERPOINT: All the self-talk and messages from other people that lead you to doubt yourself.

ACTUAL POINT: The evidence you have for your original belief. It can be internal or external, conclusive or just suggestive. What matters is that it lets you trust yourself.

CONCLUSION: Your original point, “and that’s ok.”

To get it published, choose one of the following options:

  1. Submit your Point, Counterpoint, Actual point on the project website theactualpointproject.com.
  2. Email it to notesoncrazy@gmail.com and include how you would like to be credited: anonymous, with a pseudonym and/or link to your blog, or with your name.
  3. Post it on your own blog, with a link to the project.
  4. Post it on Facebook or Tumblr or Twitter (well, 140 characters would make you the master of succinctness, but go ahead!). Or wherever.

Your choice. Because this isn’t about the project. It’s about you.

It’s time to let go of those voices inside our heads.

Contributions so far:

Or browse all submissions to the Point, Counterpoint, Actual Point project.

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Shame

This article has been reprinted with permission on We Are Like Your Child.

I want to test a theory. The theory of shame going away when it’s out in the open.

I seem to have this thing. Which could or might possibly be related to decreased pain sensitivity. Or maybe executive function.

I don’t feel my bladder getting full. Usually the first signal that really gets me to pay attention is “bladder completely full cannot hold it need to find toilet within next 30 seconds!” Mad scramble for toilet ensues.

That or peeing myself.

© Bartlomiej Zyczynski – Fotolia.com

I’m 36 years old. I’m a pretty successful career woman (I can still bluff my way around the gaps in my resume). I have bought a house on my own (mortgaged of course, but still). I have a small but close circle of friends. I’m close with my family. I’m highly verbal. If I wanted, I could easily be seen as a shiny Aspie.

And the last time I peed myself in public was 6 weeks ago. And I don’t mean a few dribbles. I don’t mean “bit of incontinence, here’s some Depends”. I mean not being able to stop until my bladder is empty. Thank god this time the train platform was fairly dark and I was wearing a skirt so only my shoes got soaked. Made a nice squishy sound when I walked away from the puddle in the hopes that nobody would see.

Have I forgiven myself for not being able to feel my bladder until it’s bursting? Oh, years and years ago. It’s just a thing that happens. I can’t do anything about it except frequent toilet breaks even when I don’t feel like I have to go, and sometimes I simply forget to do that. It’s part of being me.

Do I still feel absolutely mortified when I pee myself in public? Does telling this story make me cringe? Did anyone here reading that story feel embarrassment on my behalf? Or even disgust?… Yeah, thought so.

But I’m glad you listened.

Edited to add some background:
When I wrote this, I was incredibly angry. Angry at the idea that shame was just some silly notion that would disappear as soon as it got examined. So I wanted to prove that there were some things that would not be less shameful when brought out in the open, because it wasn’t irrational to feel ashamed of them. That it was actually
normal to feel ashamed for wetting myself as an adult.

But now I feel pride. Pride that I had the courage to come out and admit that there are some things that will always be a problem for me. Pride that I was asked to publish my story on We Are Like Your Child, which is a blog full of articles by bloggers I very much admire. And pride that maybe, just maybe, someone else out there will read this and find some consolation and courage in here too. Bless you all. Wetters and non-wetters alike.

Guess that means I'm doomed ;-)

Guess that means I’m doomed *giggles*