Feeling sorry for yourself is perfectly fine up to a point. The danger arises when it turns into a habit; you might actually start to enjoy it, and then you simply won’t want to be happy anymore. Here are 10 signs that it’s time to stop.
You have low self-esteem
Everyone and their dog has written about how low self-esteem is a reason to see a therapist. It’s something you can—and should—work on, because it gets in the way of living your life. But for you, it doesn’t get in the way—oh no. You actually enjoy being a “little person” whom anyone can hurt. And—surprise, surprise—you get hurt again, just as you expected! In reality, this is a very convenient position to take: low self-esteem acts as a universal get-out-of-jail-free card. You “just can’t” stand up for yourself, right? In truth, you could, but you don’t want to put in the effort—because then people would stop feeling sorry for you.
You are constantly worried
It’s normal to feel anxious about real, existing problems. It is not, however, normal to fret over every little thing, constantly playing out scenarios of an internal apocalypse in your head. If you’re experiencing this and it’s weighing you down, you need to see a doctor. But if you’re consciously blowing every minor issue out of proportion—turning every fly into a massive elephant—then it seems you simply enjoy being unhappy. The cruel, heartless world, meanwhile, is stingy and rarely provides fresh reasons for you to suffer.
You play the victim
In every one of your problems, someone else is always to blame—never you. You’re capable of pinning your suffering on someone regardless of what they’ve actually done to you. Take your mother, for example: did your mother work a lot? You grew up without love—that’s the root of all your problems (and, naturally, it’s your mother’s fault). Did your mother devote her entire life to you? She was overprotective, denied you any freedom, and smothered you with love—that’s where all your problems come from, sure. By the way, if you’re pushing thirty and still blaming your parents for your issues, it’s simply because you enjoy doing so. No one is denying that upbringing can be traumatic; it’s just high time to start healing those traumas instead of reveling in them.
You compare yourself to others
And, of course, it’s never in your favor—the grass is always greener on the other side, which fuels your envy and jealousy. And, naturally, your suffering. Some of these perpetual sufferers manage to work themselves into a full-blown hysterical state just by seeing a friend’s selfie on a beach in Dubai—can you imagine?
You adore tear-jerking Cinderella stories
Cheap, mass-market paperbacks are your favorite reading material. They always feature a kind, pure-hearted, young, and beautiful girl who is mistreated by various villains. The heroine endures humiliation, holding onto the firm belief that, sooner or later, a prince will come riding in to save her. And, sure enough, the prince arrives—there’s a wedding, a happy ending. Naturally, you identify with the heroine—oh, if only something like that would happen to you, then everyone would finally see how wonderful you truly are! Very convenient, isn’t it? You don’t have to do a thing—you just have to suffer with enough stoicism and wait for someone else to show up and solve all your problems.
You judge strong women
In your view, they aren’t really women at all—they’re more like men in skirts. And, of course, they are all deeply unhappy; no one loves them, and a poorhouse awaits them in their old age. In reality, you don’t actually believe this, but you take great pleasure in broadcasting these ideas to the world. That’s because strong women get in your way. They solve their own problems, which puts you in an awkward position: sooner or later, someone is bound to ask why you don’t do the same, instead of constantly whining and begging for help and sympathy. Perhaps you actually enjoy it, hmm? To ensure no one ever thinks that of you—heaven forbid!—you preemptively take down your imagined rivals. Ha! Besides, they aren’t even “real” women, are they? You, on the other hand—you suffer in a truly feminine way. Just as it should be. Just as Mother Nature intended.
You go looking for a villain.
Someone has to be the “bad guy” so that you can be the “good one”—that much is clear. This is precisely why all your relationships are with scoundrels of every stripe: alcoholics, emotional abusers, womanizers, and gigolos. You never date “good guys” because they wouldn’t hurt you. And if they don’t hurt you, who’s going to feel sorry for you? No, that’s not how you play the game. Your goal is to surround yourself with as many negative characters as possible, which then gives you a reason to expand your circle of willing “saviors.”
You live in the past.
You dwell in endless regrets over missed opportunities and how wonderful you once were. The most important thing is that you know perfectly well: your present will, sooner or later, also become the past—and you’ll begin looking back on it, too—only to regret, once again, that you spent all that time lost in empty memories and lamentations. An endless recursion, capable of scaring anyone half to death—except for a young woman who revels in her own misery.
You manipulate those close to you.
And if something so good happens in your life that it’s impossible to overlook, you tell yourself it’s just a coincidence. In reality, you believe you’re unlucky, and that everything is just futility, dust, and hopelessness. I mean, that’s not actually the case, of course… but then again, you seem to like it that way.
