My Process Is My Pain

On Punishment, Unworthiness, and Scratching Back to Yourself

I don’t think there is another human on this planet who could say nastier things to me than I haven’t already said to myself. I excel at negative self-talk, and although I strive to be the best at everything I do, I would love to suck at hating myself.

In my memoir, Perpetual Conflict, I delved into what I then called “My Process,” in an attempt to understand it. And, at the time, that exploration brought me a bit closer to knowing why it occurs. But it still happens, and when it happened last week, I wanted to understand it more deeply, so I started writing about it. And because there cannot be understanding without writing and painting, I set out to express the emotions of My Process onto the canvas.

My Process Is My Pain

The foundation of My Process is that I feel (mostly subconsciously, but sometimes consciously) that I am not worthy of a place in this world. To be able to think or feel that and still remain on this earth, I must find proof every day that I am indeed worthy. The “proof” can come in many forms:

• Producing work that is of value to others

• Making money with said work

• Being able to support myself

• People who like me

• People who are happy with me and my work or actions

• Making no mistakes

• Maintaining that no other human is ever mad at me or can accuse me of being wrong, or doing something that would hurt another.

• Other humans that genuinely care about me, although I do think I really believe they exist.

• Societal expectations: living in a respectable home, driving a respectable car, wearing stylish clothes, looking okay for my age, etc. It may not matter as much as it used to, but it is still in the mix.

All is good and somewhat calm in my world if the above conditions are met, each and every day. When one of the conditions is unmet, it can and usually does become a trigger that sets off a series of cascading events.

First, the trigger:

By another person:

• Does not like my work

• Is unkind to me

• Betrays me

• Doesn’t consider my feelings or needs

• Assumes I will do what they want, even if it is not what I want

• Does not take care of me in the way I take care of them

• Does not value me

By myself:

• I make a mistake

• Feel I did not do my best

• Feel shame about something I said or did

• Act too much like the real me in work or social situations

• Tuesday (or any day) sometimes

Then, because I failed to keep all the conditions met, I must atone for my sins, and that comes in the form of punishment. And once the storm of punishment unleashes, there is no going back. I have no choice but to ride out this process to its conclusion. It’s like a roller coaster you cannot exit until you are no longer upside down or going 55 miles per hour. It’s a painful process, and it causes me great mental harm, which in turn reinforces my lack of worth in this world. I have been doing it as long as I can remember, and I no longer wish to remain powerless against it. The only way I can defeat My Process is to understand it on both an intellectual and emotional level. So, let’s get started.

Immediately after the trigger, I feel a wall of emotions overtake my body as I am slowly pulled toward the rabbit hole forming in front of me. As I retreat from my safe, calm, happy reality, I feel parts of myself being pushed so far into the darkness that I fear I will never get them back. As I am pulled deeper into the rabbit hole, I begin to lose the ability to see the situation rationally, and my contempt for myself grows exponentially. Then, waves of anger, each stronger than its predecessor, wash over me, and it feels as if every cell in my body is at war with my soul. It’s as if my own body is trying to rid itself of my inherent unworthiness.

I live in that anger for hours to days and relive the unmet condition constantly, hoping that I can find evidence that I am truly worthy, but at this stage, I rarely do.

Internally, my thoughts about myself are nasty, biting, and horrible:

You brought this on yourself
You don’t deserve happiness
You are not a good person
You have to pay for this
You are not allowed to have anything that makes you happy
You must suffer

Externally, it is obvious I am not in a good place:

• I retreat into myself and don’t talk much

• When I do talk, it is quite monotone, and I only answer questions

• My eyes express the deep sadness that has overtaken me

• Tears well up in my eyes sporadically

• I can feel the anger pumping through my veins, and the sadness washing over my skin

• Both my thoughts and my physical condition drive me deeper into the rabbit hole until I arrive at the punishment stage. Here, everything I want, need, love, or desire is stripped from me so that maybe, next time, I will not let a condition fall.

• I bury myself in my work, rarely stopping or allowing myself even a smile, unless I have a Zoom call. To even suggest I am not “happy” to others would unleash a punishment that would make what I normally endure joyful.

• I tell myself I don’t deserve food, free time, happiness, or anything positive in my life.

• I agree to remove all joy from my life until further notice.

When the punishment phase is in full force, I tend to seek out additional evidence to support the hypothesis that I am unworthy of love, joy, and life. Just in case what caused it was not enough. Got to be sure, right?

Whether it is rehashing something from my past that fits the unworthy narrative, or actively looking for a new reason I suck, I gladly continue my punishment, trapped in a recurring cycle of hatred solely designed to generate new punishments for me. Even if I want to exit the ride, I can’t. It’s as if I am under a spell, and my departure relies on finding a mythical and invisible potion. The more I try to find the potion, the more futile my search becomes. I stay trapped in this rabbit hole of my own making until something pulls me out. It could be a significant distraction, talking with Rich, or it can just go away after a few days. Most of the time, My Process lasts for days and is over in mere minutes. It’s crazy, really.

So, what causes My Process, and why the hell do I keep doing it to myself?

I started writing this essay before I started painting, and I knew that to really understand My Process, I would need to put paint on the canvas for the truth to reveal itself.

With every painting, I start with a color and then go from there. For My Process Is My Pain, I knew I needed to use black and blue. It’s the colors that immediately come to mind when I think of punishment. And, The Witch (woman who raised me) would threaten me by claiming those were the colors I would be if I did not do as she said. So, I started with Payne’s Grey, which is kinda black, and kinda blue.

As I laid down the strokes of darkness, I felt the anger and the energy behind it. It moved from my torso to my arms, through my hands, and onto the canvas. My anger is vast and deep, and I know, even with this painting, I was only scratching the surface. Once the “black” was down, I needed to add its partner, blue, which, in this duo, brings lightness to a dark time. As I was adding the blue, The Witch popped into my head to try to sway the painting in her direction, because that is what she always did: make everything about her.

She was trying to get some representation in the piece since she was the original architect of My Process. When I realized she was in my head, my first instinct was to acknowledge her and give her a place on the canvas. I remembered that red was her favorite color, so I chose to add a dark pink to the canvas.

But I did not do it for her. Instead, I added the pink so she would be surrounded by the black and blue and hopefully understand the pain and suffering she caused. It was a vengeful act that would have fallen on deaf ears. Even if she were alive and standing right next to me, she would never understand, and certainly would not feel any remorse or even a sliver of empathy.

Adding marks to my painting is my way of creating resolution to the painful layers already placed on the canvas. I added circles like I normally do (they make me smile), and then I added my final marks with a pastry cutter, representing me, scratching back to myself.

As with most of my trauma, The Witch is the origin story. She loved punishing me, and she did so often. I don’t recall doing that much wrong in my youth, and I don’t think I actually did. It wasn’t about actually doing or being wrong. It was about control. She had to control me, but because of my inquisitive nature, I wasn’t an easy task for her. So she found a process that worked: punishment.

She would spank me with a wooden carving board sporting the Lord’s Prayer, make me stand in the corner for hours, and ground me for months at a time. When she punished me, I would cry, and cry hard. Then I would plead my case, and then cry some more. Throughout it all, she remained stoic and determined to continue the punishment. If her intent was to break me, well, she succeeded.

I don’t think she intended or even imagined that her process would become my own. But, because her punishment of me was so very traumatic and went on for so long (my entire childhood), it became a part of who I am.

The enormity of what I just wrote has caused me to pause and swallow hard. The person charged with my care and well-being abused me enough to cause me to adopt an abusive mindset for myself. That is horrible, unthinkable, and feels like a place I can never return from. How could I? It’s who I am. It’s who I was made to be.

Her hatred for me is now my own hatred for myself. Now that’s beyond fucked up, and a very, very hard thing to accept.

But, I must accept it if I want to retire My Process for good. But acceptance is only the beginning. How do you excise a part of yourself that has existed your whole life? I am not even sure where to start. My Process feels almost more physical than emotional. What do you do with that?

So now I have more questions than answers, but that is a win nonetheless. Without the awareness exploring this has caused, I would not be on the path to eventually burying My Process. And even though I cannot tell you how, where, or when at this time, I am certain I will defeat The Witch and give her back her own damn process.

Where do I start this huge emotional undertaking?

The scratches. I start with the scratches.

They represent the dismantling not only of My Process but also of the anvil of unworthiness that weighs me down and makes me susceptible to The Witch’s continued control.

With each scratch, no matter how shallow or short, I will be fighting back, regaining my autonomy, and uncovering the person I was born to be.

Now that makes me happy.

Thanks for sitting in the rabbit hole with me today.

My Process Is My Pain is 36” x 60” and available as an original painting and fine art prints.

Check out my painting process video on YouTube:

Victoria