We all live in the yellow submarine

[small porgies]

Small Porgies here. I was struggling the other day with the issue of self care. I survived something close to ritual abuse but have no memory of anything. Anyhow, being that I was subjected to abuse probably before I could speak, the M.O. of my life is to not be a problem, to not get in the way, to give without ending and to allow people to take large chunks of my time and mental energy.
Learning to drink water when I'm thirsty is still an issue. I know I'm thirsty but I sit there and remain parched with a large pitcher of water is sitting on my mini fridge. Which is empty. My father was the abuser and he controlled the food in the house so I have no ability to cook or understand the process of what it means to eat well.
The issue of self-care is really confusing to me. I guess to deal with the abuse I divided because if I had voiced an opinion about what was happening in the moment, I have no idea what would have happened. So I was never a priority. So I am struggling to change that. I think I have a partial solution.
I went and got a dry erase board. I listed a series of things that are not okay to do to myself. Taking things from myself that make me happy, was one. The abuse happened over thirty years ago yet I am acting as if it is still going on.
I wrote down the things that make me happy. I listed the things I do to hurt myself and am not allowed to continue doing. My favorite part of the board (I think it appeals to my kids) is the daily "One thing I like about myself." First thing were my feet. Then my ears. Kind of cool because they are close to the side of my head and don't stick out like beer mug handles. Today it was my sense of humor. I drew a large smiley face and on the top of it I welcomed my seven alters. Beginning to find things I like about myself is already changing how I feel about myself. I actually could look in the mirror for the first time.
Even as I write this there is this desire to tear myself to pieces. One of the things I have struggled with but am winning the battle with, is the vitriolic self hate dialogue. I haven't given in to it like I used to. The other day I said numbskull to myself and it felt so good. Compared to what I used to say to myself, this is silly. But it was like what I would imagine a woman would go through, who had refrained from eating chocolate, allowing herself to have just one piece of rich chocolate cake. Odd.
Even as I write this, I doubt I have alters. I'm new to this whole thing so I switch on and off about believing it and doubting. Thanks for listening.