“I’m Not Good Enough,” And Other Lies I Tell Myself- Podcast: Waking From The Fire, Ep 10: Peter Kofitsas with Therapist, Jill Mackey
Dear Friend,
If you’ve watched/listened to my previous podcast, How To Be Better, Not Just Feel Better, with therapist, Jill Mackey, you know how packed it is with life-saving information. I write, “Life-Saving” because that’s what the information did for me. It saved, then gave me my life back from endless self doubt, rumination, worry, panic, fear, and hate.
I think you’ll find today’s podcast even more life-changing because, if you, like me, have that little voice in your head that makes you doubt yourself, then there is no doubt in my mind that what Jill and I share will help you. By the way, that little voice in your head, that’s the the critical inner parent, and it can wreck havoc on our psyche.
Listen/watch today’s podcast then read my memoir excerpt below. In it I share one of the exact moments I started to believe I was stupid, careless, and not good enough. What a gift, to see that my low self worth beliefs did not start with me.
Now, I’m compelled to write again, for me, going back wasn’t about blame, it was about understanding, then forgiving, my father, then myself. If I didn’t go back, I could not have moved forward. Believe me, I tried positive affirmations, self help books, and motivational/success seminars for years. They all worked short term, then I was right back where I started, frustrated, hopeless. That’s why today’s podcast content is so helpful regarding the critical inner parent, where it comes from, and how to quiet it.
How do you know you struggle with the critical inner parent? Here are some signs the critical inner parent is active:
Judgmental toward others or self,
Self doubt, questioning self, second guessing
Worrying, catastrophizing , projecting into the future
Ruminating on past or present conversations, imagining do-overs
Perfectionism, control
Gossiping, comparing to others
And so much more
So watch/listen now then read below, as Jill and I explore how to identify, then slowly tame that little voice, which, believe it or not, is trying to help us.
And, my friend, I remind you again, if you struggle, you’re not alone. The struggle has value. Here’s what Jill said about it during the podcast.
People want to skip the struggle, but you can’t. That’s where you develop your character.
That’s so true for me. For 48 years I tried to skip the struggle by portraying perfection on the outside, while hating myself on the inside for not being perfect. No amount of “Letting it go,” and “Don’t dwell on the past,” quieted that critical voice inside me. The only thing that did was working with a good therapist, a 12 step program, and surrounding myself with people like Jill who “Got me.” By the way, how cool is Jill that she has this incredible depth of knowledge, and also knows first hand about childhood trauma, then shares it with us. I’m grateful for her honesty, authenticity, and friendship.
Thanks for reading/listening/watching. If what you heard/read resonated with you, send me an email or leave a comment. I love hearing from you.
All My Best,
Peter
Peter Kofitsas is a Speaker, Author, Life/Health Coach, Nutritionist, and Physical Therapist
Jill Mackey is a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC), Licensed Clinical Alcohol & Drug Counselor (LCADC), National Certified Counselor (NCC) and Certified Clinical Trauma Professional (CCTP)
Memoir Excerpt
Waking From the Fire
Names, Flames, & A Desire For Fame
An Inspirational Memoir
Excerpt from Chapter 7 Hiding Places
…My next memory is of sitting in the back of my father’s van again. This time, with brown paper bags. We’re returning from the supermarket; one of the few times I recall us doing anything as a family, except the time we pick something up from a large brown building. That time, my father pivots from the front seat and points his large finger in my face, clenches his teeth, and warns me, “If you tell anyone we’re on food stamps, I’ll kill you!” At four years old I don’t know what food stamps are, but I nod my head.
When he pulls to the curb I open the van door and watch helplessly, like in slow motion, as the watermelon my father took his time choosing at the supermarket rolls out and lands on the curb, smashing to pieces. My brother says, “He was yelling at you to be careful of the watermelon opening the door, but being a five year old kid you didn’t react in time.” My mother recalls in a soft voice, lowering her head, avoiding my eyes. “When your father came around to your side of the van and saw the watermelon, he slapped your face and screamed how stupid and careless you were. The neighbors were watching so I stepped in between you and him. He yelled, ‘He’s sleeping in the basement. I don’t want to see his face for the rest of the night.”
I take myself back to the night of the watermelon incident, as my brother, sister, and now Bella, call it, still vivid in my memory. I’m crouching in our dark, damp, mildewy, half furnished basement. My father’s one floor above me, pacing. I can hear him cursing God through the floor. When I share this writing with a friend, she asks, “Why do you do this to yourself?” I explain, “Forcing my mind to recall every sound, smell, color, and emotion, then write about it, and share it with Frank, my therapist, is the best way I have to help that little boy understand what happened. Some people, trying to be helpful, tell me to “Let it go.” But how could I let go of something I didn’t know I carried? First, I had to go back. That was the only way I could move forward.
From our basement, I can hear him stomping in and out of every room of our small apartment, each step of his heavy work boot vibrating through my chest, making it harder to breathe, worried he’s coming down. I think, If he does, Mama won’t be there this time. It’ll be just the two of us.
At the bottom of the steps is a naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Toward the back is another one. I stare at the one closest to me and the shadows it casts, praying it won’t go out. I’m afraid of the dark, so I never come down here alone at night. It’s creepy during the day. There are noises coming from the closet that a five year old boy thinks sound like monsters.
I sit crouched in a dark corner, and wait.
It’s night now. The stomping and cursing has stopped. Alone with the shadows and noises, I hear someone gently slinking down the stairs. It’s my mother. She whispers, “Come up, I think he’s calmed down now.” She’s not convincing. I shake my head side to side. From past experiences I don’t believe my mother can protect me. I’m sure the sight of me will send him into another rage. I think about what he said, “I don’t want to see his face for the rest of the night.” So I want to be a good boy and listen this time. My mother tries again, “It’s okay, come up.” I’m adamant, “No.” The shadows and noises make my chest hurt, but going upstairs would be worse. She gives up.
Soon I hear sounds on the stairs again. Someone else is coming down, slowly. I make my body smaller. It’s my brother. He recalls, “I came down to tease you. I walked past the clothes and sheets mom hung in the basement to dry. I didn’t know where you were. I found you sitting in a back corner. You had a big round spot on your pants where you pissed on yourself.”
My mother and brother continue to come down in intervals late into the night, trying to convince me to come up. I refuse. Bending my knees and pulling my ankles in as far as possible, then wrapping them with my arms, I’m determined to wait until morning. My 12-step program writes, “We controlled our thoughts, our voices, and many times our posture to escape detection from an abusive parent or caregiver.” (Step 3 BRB).
Curled there, I play back what happened. As the hours slowly go by, I’ll agree with my father, that I was stupid and careless, and that’s what made him angry. If he saw my face he’d be reminded of my stupidity and carelessness, so I’d better stay downstairs. He often warns me he’ll kill me if I don’t listen. He’s convincing. The more I think, the more I scold myself, Why couldn’t I have been more careful with the watermelon? I rewind the scene over and over again, seeing the watermelon rolling, cursing myself for not reaching out to stop it. Strangely, I feel badly for the watermelon, that I hurt it by letting it smash to pieces. Exhausted, I shut my eyes and pray;
I wish I was a better kid.
I wish he would leave.
I wish I was dead.
After tonight, whenever I can, I leave a room when my father enters it.
About this time is when the dreams start. In them, I’m running because I’ve done something bad and I’m in trouble. It’s always dark. There’s someone after me. If they catch me, I know they’ll hurt me. Recently, I got caught. There’s a dark figure of a man I can’t make out behind a glass door. We’re at a stand still. That’s when I see the gun he’s holding. It’s pointed at my head. Before I can run, he pulls the trigger. The glass door shatters and I feel the impact of the bullet snap my head back. With my finger I trace the hole in my forehead. Slowly, my blood leaks out over my face. It’s warm. Right before I sense my eyes are about to close forever, I turn to my 10 year old son Nicholas, standing next to me, his hand in mine, and beg, “Buddy, please don’t let this be your last memory of me. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to teach you more. I love you.”
Thanks for reading.
Here are some steps and resources that may help you.
Find a good therapist (They’re not all created equal. If there’s been family trauma/dysfunction in your life, ask if they have expertise in that area. Frank was my 5th, and best therapist)
Look for a 12-step program if that makes sense for you. I joined Adult Children of Alcoholics & Dysfunctional Families. It saved my life.
Ask like minded family & friends for help. Not the friends & family that will judge, but the ones who understand what it is to struggle
Never give up. I was ready to. Thank God I didn’t. My relationships, especially with my children, have never been stronger.
If it’s right for you, I’d like to work with you- Life & Health Coaching
Have Peter & Jill Speak to Your Group!
Jill and I would love to partner with you, to either help you with your personal health and life goals, and/0r help your group, team, employees with programs and presentations that will help them decrease their stress & anxiety while increasing their happiness, with powerful mindfulness, nutrition, exercise, and stress reducing strategies. Contact me today to customize a program for your group, or just to chat :-).
