Self-Flagellation
Hello! My name is Catherine and I am a recovering codependent.
Codependency is an acquired mental health disorder, based on social conditioning and upbringing.
At its core, codependency means that I don’t didn’t love myself. I was taught not to. Instead I was taught that to give of myself to others made me a good person, and keeping myself to myself made me a bad person.
I was taught that self-love is shameful; by people who themselves had been shamed not to love themselves.
I’ve had enough. By not loving myself I have treated myself and others badly. No more.
I now practice self-love.
Self-Flagellation
In my second-to-last year of high school I sat an art exam. I finished early and spent fifteen blissful minutes doodling. With a minute to go I heard someone groan, “Oh my God, there’s a question on the back!”
OH SHIT I thought and turned my question paper over. There on the back, for ten points, was an essay question; What is art?
I quickly scribbled Art is self-expression and then the bell rang, my paper was whisked off my desk and I buried my head in my arms in despair. My favourite subject and I’d blown the exam.
I’m such an idiot, I thought.
I beat myself up all that weekend. I beat myself up all of the next week. I beat myself up for beating myself up and then I beat myself up some more.
Suspended
During this second-to-last year of high school I spent a lot of time hanging out at Gandalf’s, a bar in Observatory, Cape Town that played punk, rock, metal and goth music.
Ian Mckellan, the actor who played Gandalf in the Lord of the Rings films, poses beside the sign for Gandalf’s bar.
I especially enjoyed the gothic trance nights at Gandalf’s. The deejay would put on this melodramatic, dark, thumping music with singers howling mournfully and guitars grinding spitefully and altogether it was a lot of fun. I’d jump into the centre of the moshpit in my purple velvet pants, blue tekkies, colourful mesh top glowing in the UV light, glitter exploding from my hair and a bigass grin on my face and I’d jump up and down like a maniac with all the other freaks in there that night.
Because goth music attracts gothic personalities; everyone else was dressed in black or shades thereof. Even the kids who normally dressed like punks or rockers would style themselves more gothically for goth night. But I didn’t feel out of place in my colourful clothes and glitter and no-one ever gave me a hard time for being myself. Gandalf’s was the place where all the “different” kids hung out. We were all accustomed to being beaten up for being ourselves in the outside world; Gandalf’s was our sanctuary where we celebrated ourselves for being oddballs and freaks.
We went there to express ourselves.
The weekend after that botched art exam, I went to a goth night event at Gandalf’s. Late into the evening there was an exhibition in which a man strung himself up with these great big hooks piercing his skin and he hung in the air, suspended, for a good half-hour. I was surprised at how little he bled. Turns out one can pierce one’s flesh with giant hooks and if it’s done right; not bleed a lot. I was so fascinated with the lack of blood, and the performance in general, that afterwards I approached him and asked if I could ask him some questions about his art. He laughed and told me that I was a “fairy among the ghouls” and agreed to chat with me.
I asked a lot of questions about the duality of his work; the balance of pain and pleasure and the positive and negative responses he received from his audience. He talked about the connection between physical discomfort and spiritual ecstasy. He described physical pain as being his gateway to God.
My Beloved Giger
It was from this suspension artist at Gandalf’s Bar that I had my introduction to the fascinating art of HR Giger, a Swiss artist best-known for his creature designs for the Alien film franchise.
In all of Giger’s works there is an interplay between creativity and destructivity that fascinated me and confounded me and made my teenage self so deeply uncomfortable that I experienced epiphanies about myself. I don’t know specifically what moved me so much about his work…
I’m beginning to believe that even more than his masterful art works; it was his mind that moved me, it was his relationship with himself that intrigued me and seduced me.
Over time I came to love the sensation of emotional and psychological discomfort, because it was my gateway to God.
Emotional Masochism
I confess that I have become an emotional masochist. I enjoy being uncomfortable, psychologically and emotionally. I seek out and even create experiences that elicit discomforting thoughts about and emotions towards myself. I engage in unhealthy relationships. I engage in unhealthy behaviours. I engage in unhealthy thought patterns.
Because when I lean into and then push through the discomfort and listen to the lessons it brings; I have an epiphany. I enjoy a state of enlightenment through engaging with emotional discomfort; I literally feel lighter in myself for quite some time afterwards. I feel a sense of catharsis; of having expressed myself.
But I can take it too far sometimes.
There’s a difference between accepting the uncomfortable emotions and resulting epiphanies that life brings and beating myself up in order to force/control enlightenment.
There’s a difference between holding myself accountable for my actions and punishing myself for those actions.
There’s a difference between making amends for my actions and forcing forgiveness by beating myself up so much that others are discomforted by my display of self-flagellation and offer forgiveness to make me stop making them uncomfortable by beating myself up.
There’s a difference between owning myself as a whole person, monsters included, and hating myself for being human and having very human emotions, thoughts and behaviours (monsters) in the first place.
The difference, I believe, is self-love.
When I act from a place of self-love:
I honour myself by holding myself accountable.
I respect myself by making appropriate amends.
I adore myself by accepting and owning all of my parts - including my most beautiful parts and my most disgusting parts.
Many Gates to Choose From
In my recent blog post I love you All, I described a moment of epiphany that I experienced through self-love. From that experience I learned that there are other Gateways to God besides self-flagellation.
I learned that I can access my higher power through self-love instead of masochism.
I don’t have to beat myself up anymore. I can express myself in healthier ways.
I am practicing healthy enlightenment methods, such as seeking out healthy experiences and creating healthy behaviours. These experiences and behaviours elicit thoughts about and emotions towards myself that feel good and when they are compounded through practice, I have an epiphany. This feels different to my prior painful epiphanies. I experience a moment of exquisite ecstasy in which I am connected to my higher power and I am aware of my role in the Divine Plan, I am accepting of my worth and I am absolutely loving just being me.
I am learning how to engage in healthy relationships by taking it slow, getting to know people over time and acknowledging that trust is something that must be earned.
I am engaging in healthy behaviours like resting my body instead of pushing through exhaustion, offering my mind pleasurable stimulus like making art and listening to heartwarming music instead of engaging with stimulus like watching the news that lowers my mood.
I am learning to engage in healthier thought patterns. Ugh I’m bloated and fugly today is becoming I’m going to be gentle with my gut today so I can be more comfortable.
I’m an idiot is becoming I made a mistake. What do I need to do to feel better about it? How can I do better next time? What can I learn from this experience?
Self-love is a proactive practice. It literally takes practice. It takes time and effort. It’s a process that requires my constant attention, and my constant compassion, because it is so tempting to fall back into familiar, comfortable thought and behaviour patterns from my past, especially the oh-so-seductive emotional masochism.
But I have made my mind up:
No more self-flagellation for me.
I now practice
self-love.
PS. I got 5/10 for my exam essay. My teacher said she’d wanted to give me 10/10 but she felt it wouldn’t be fair to the other students who’d actually written an essay, and not an “artistic manifesto in four words.”
