I spent much of my life doggedly clinging to the idea that if I managed to beat myself hard enough, morale would improve. It worked, insofar as it kept me goin

I spent much of my life doggedly clinging to the idea that if I managed to beat myself hard enough, morale would improve. It worked, insofar as it kept me going for years, and years, and took me places - but by the end I was a husk. This path leads to burnout. Post-burnout, the floggings continued until I finally got it through my thick skull that I was inflicting harm on those around me, as watching someone you love castigate themselves incessantly is apparently not easy. I’ve finally just about stopped, after a few years of therapy and a lot of time in nature. Turns out that the motivation I had as a small kid, before I was taught to be cruel to myself at age seven, was still there, but had been overlain with a system of brutality that was necessary for my survival in the boarding school environment. I once again find myself doing things with passion and joy, rather than drudgingly hauling my sorry ass through the thorns.