Damaged Goods
There was a time in my hard headed youth when I would have argued to the death that there was nothing wrong with me and that whatever little surface problems that were obvious to myself and everyone else who knew me could be easily remedied by my own self control. It was a comfortable if not proud position considering that I had come from a childhood of moderate dysfunction. I would never cast blame. I still don’t. Looking back I can only be thankful of the love and concern that I was raised with. But as I am approaching my mid-life years I think I have a clearer understanding of what molds and develops a personality. I was too stubborn back then to admit that it might be even remotely possible that I could be in need of psychological assistance; in fact I scoffed at the mere mention of it. That was not for me. That was for weak people. Everybody had problems stemming from their upbringing or from their biological nature that they should all have come to terms with by their early adult years. But now I feel I have the maturity to admit that I could benefit from the counseling of professional assistance. Without being too specific, I can give a few examples of what I’m talking about: low self esteem, self destructive behavior, lack of ambition and an overwhelming sense of failure. These I feel are balanced by the opposite positive qualities that have graced my life and I know that I’m lucky to have. But now I can say without hesitation and without a hint of shame that I consider myself functional, but unmistakably, damaged goods.
There was a time in my hard headed youth when I would have argued to the death that there was nothing wrong with me and that whatever little surface problems that were obvious to myself and everyone else who knew me could be easily remedied by my own self control. It was a comfortable if not proud position considering that I had come from a childhood of moderate dysfunction. I would never cast blame. I still don’t. Looking back I can only be thankful of the love and concern that I was raised with. But as I am approaching my mid-life years I think I have a clearer understanding of what molds and develops a personality. I was too stubborn back then to admit that it might be even remotely possible that I could be in need of psychological assistance; in fact I scoffed at the mere mention of it. That was not for me. That was for weak people. Everybody had problems stemming from their upbringing or from their biological nature that they should all have come to terms with by their early adult years. But now I feel I have the maturity to admit that I could benefit from the counseling of professional assistance. Without being too specific, I can give a few examples of what I’m talking about: low self esteem, self destructive behavior, lack of ambition and an overwhelming sense of failure. These I feel are balanced by the opposite positive qualities that have graced my life and I know that I’m lucky to have. But now I can say without hesitation and without a hint of shame that I consider myself functional, but unmistakably, damaged goods.
