What HAPPENED? — AUDIO BELOW

I used to walk with purpose. My path stretched ahead, glowing faintly like a trail of embers waiting for me to ignite them. It felt alive under my feet, whispering promises of fulfillment, of meaning. But somewhere along the way, the glow faded. The whispers turned to silence. Now, I find myself standing in a dark forest, surrounded by shadows of doubt and trees of indecision, lost because I no longer believe I am worthy of walking forward.

It didn’t happen all at once. Losing worth is a slow unraveling. At first, it was just a quiet voice, easily ignored: “Are you sure you deserve this?” Then the voice grew louder, persistent, until it became a chorus, a chant that drowned out my confidence and reduced my steps to hesitant shuffles. Each failure, each misstep, became a confirmation of what the voice had always warned me: that I am not enough.

The path didn’t vanish. It’s still there, obscured beneath layers of doubt, but I can’t see it anymore. My worth was the lantern that lit my way, and now it’s gone, extinguished by my own hands. Without it, every direction feels wrong. Every choice feels futile.

I try to remember the days when I felt capable, when my steps were sure and my dreams burned bright. But those memories are like distant stars now, beautiful but unreachable. I’ve built walls between myself and them, walls made of my own insecurities. “You don’t deserve to feel that way anymore,” the voice tells me. And I believe it.

The forest is alive with movement. Branches creak like accusing fingers. The ground shifts underfoot, eager to swallow me whole. I wonder if this is what it means to truly lose yourself: to not only forget the path but to convince yourself that you were never meant to walk it in the first place. The worth I once clung to now feels like a cruel illusion, something I was foolish to believe I had. How could I have been so bold, so arrogant, to think I deserved anything more than this?

But even in the darkness, there are flickers of light. Small and fleeting, like fireflies in the distance. They remind me that I’ve been here before. I’ve stumbled. I’ve fallen. And yet, somehow, I’ve always found my way back. Maybe it wasn’t the same path I started on, but it was mine. And maybe, just maybe, this forest isn’t the end. Perhaps it’s a beginning, a chance to rediscover not just the path, but the worth that lights it.

So I stand here, lost but not defeated. The voice of doubt is still there, still loud, but I am learning to speak back. To whisper, at first, then to shout, “I am more than this darkness. I am more than these doubts.” And as I speak, I can almost feel the ground solidify beneath me, the faintest glow returning to the path ahead. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Because losing your worth doesn’t mean it’s gone forever. Sometimes, it’s just hidden, waiting for you to be brave enough to find it again

Have I Lost it?

The feeling of unworthiness can feel like a relentless shadow, a parasite burrowing into the core of your being. It whispers cruel lies in the dead of night, weaving a suffocating narrative that you’re not enough, that you don’t deserve love, happiness, or even existence. This is not just an emotion — it’s a haunting. It’s the quiet scream in the back of your mind that never ceases, the weight in your chest that grows heavier with every passing day. For those who possess sharp intelligence, this torment can take on a sinister, amplified edge. The sharper the mind, the more brutal the self-criticism, as intelligence becomes a double-edged sword—an ally turned foe.

.Past Experiences and Trauma: The Ghosts of Your Childhood

Unworthiness often roots itself in the dark soil of your past, nourished by pain and neglect. Childhood memories twist into grotesque shapes, replaying moments of rejection or conditional love like a sinister film reel. If your caregivers withheld affection unless you “proved” yourself, or if they ignored your cries for validation, those moments calcified into a toxic mantra: “You are not worthy.”

For some, this horror grows from trauma. Abuse or betrayal doesn’t just wound; it leaves scars that whisper, “You are broken beyond repair.” These events don’t just stay in the past. They follow you, unseen yet omnipresent, dragging your self-esteem into an abyss. For the highly intelligent, the ability to vividly recall and analyze these moments can trap them in a loop of rumination, where each memory becomes sharper, more vivid, and more damning. This mental replay becomes an unrelenting cycle, with no room for escape.

On Comparison and Societal Expectations: The Perfect Mask

In a world obsessed with appearances, the relentless pressure to compare yourself to others becomes a waking nightmare. Social media turns this into a hall of mirrors, each reflection more distorted than the last. You see the perfect lives of others, their pristine smiles and effortless achievements, and wonder why your existence feels so hollow in comparison. It’s a game you can’t win, and the prize is the erasure of your own identity.

For intelligent individuals, the pressure is compounded. Society often expects them to excel, to perform flawlessly in all arenas of life. When they don’t meet these impossible standards, the fallout is brutal. Their sharp minds, instead of protecting them, amplify the shame, spinning elaborate narratives about failure and inadequacy. An intelligent mind doesn’t stop at simple comparisons; it dives into complex self-criticism, tearing apart every perceived imperfection in excruciating detail.

On Internalized Negative Beliefs: The Parasite in Your Mind

Once planted, the seeds of unworthiness grow into a parasitic vine that strangles your mind. “I’m not good enough,” it hisses. “I’ll always fail. Nobody could ever love me.” These thoughts don’t feel foreign; they masquerade as your own voice, turning your mind into an inescapable torture chamber.

The parasite’s roots dig deep. Perhaps they came from someone else — a parent, a bully, a partner — who fed you poison disguised as words. Over time, you swallowed these lies whole, and they became your truth. For the intelligent, this inner dialogue can take on an almost logical tone, making the lies feel irrefutable. The sharper the mind, the more convincing the self-criticism, as intelligence supplies endless evidence to support the parasite’s whispers.

On Perfectionism and Fear of Failure: A Maze with No Exit

Perfectionism is a gilded cage. At first, it seems like a path to escape unworthiness: “If I can just be perfect, I’ll be enough.” But the pursuit of flawlessness is endless, a labyrinth where every failure feels like a monster waiting to devour you.

For the highly intelligent, this maze is even more torturous. Their ability to foresee potential mistakes and analyze their own actions in excruciating detail becomes a double-edged sword. Instead of freeing them, their intelligence creates endless mental scenarios of inadequacy, making every step feel like a potential disaster. Their capacity for analysis becomes their prison, locking them in an endless cycle of self-doubt.

Fear of failure compounds this. You begin to avoid risks, terrified that even one misstep will confirm your darkest fears. This paralysis is suffocating. The walls close in, and the light at the end of the tunnel fades. For an intelligent mind, this fear often includes not just failure but the possibility of being exposed as a fraud, of having their perceived intellect unmasked as insufficient.

On Lack of Self-Compassion: The Mirror That Hates You

For those who feel unworthy, the mirror becomes an enemy. You look at yourself and see only flaws, a hollow shell undeserving of love or kindness. Even when you show compassion to others, you refuse it for yourself. You punish yourself for being human, for making mistakes, for existing at all. Without self-compassion, the cycle of unworthiness becomes a self-perpetuating nightmare.

Intelligent individuals often struggle deeply with this. Their high standards for themselves leave little room for grace. They rationalize their self-criticism as “truth,” even when it is merely cruelty disguised as logic. Their inner voice, armed with intellect, becomes a relentless judge, merciless in its verdicts.

On The Double-Edged Sword of Intelligence

Intelligence, while a gift, can be a cruel master. It amplifies everything—the good and the bad. For those struggling with unworthiness, their intelligence often deepens the abyss. It allows them to construct intricate justifications for why they don’t measure up, why they don’t deserve love or success. Their mind becomes an architect of despair, building walls that feel insurmountable.

At the same time, intelligence can also be a tool for liberation. When harnessed, it can help identify the roots of unworthiness and dismantle the lies that sustain it. The very mind that tortures can also be the one to heal, but only if guided by self-compassion and awareness.

Navigating How to Start Letting Go of Feeling Unworthy

Feeling unworthy can weigh heavily on you, and it’s not something that disappears overnight. But it doesn’t have to be the thing that defines you. You can start working through it, even if it takes time, and even if you’re not sure you’ll ever fully "get over it."

. Figure Out Where It’s Coming From

Take a moment to think about where these feelings might have started. Maybe it’s something someone said or a tough situation that left a mark. Just knowing where it came from can help you separate the feeling from who you are. It’s less about fixing it all at once and more about understanding its roots.

. Call Out the Negative Voice

We all have that inner voice that can be harsh. When it says things like, “You’re not enough” or “You’ll never succeed,” try to challenge it. Ask yourself, “Is that really true, or is that just a fear I’ve been holding onto?” It’s not about silencing the voice entirely, but rather not letting it have the final word.

. Be Nicer to Yourself (Seriously)

It’s easy to be tough on yourself, especially when you feel like you’re falling short. But imagine if you could talk to yourself with the same kindness you’d offer to a friend. You’re allowed to make mistakes, to not have everything figured out, and to give yourself a break when you need it. Sometimes just acknowledging that you’re doing your best is enough.

. Don’t Go It Alone

You don’t have to deal with this by yourself. Talk to someone you trust, whether it’s a friend, family member, or therapist. Just saying how you feel out loud can make it less heavy. And if you’re feeling stuck, someone else’s perspective might help you see things in a new light.

. Celebrate the Little Things

Big changes don’t happen overnight, but small wins add up. It might be a day where you didn’t let a negative thought take over or a moment where you were kind to yourself instead of beating yourself up. These tiny moments matter. Celebrate them.

Remember: It’s OK If You Can’t Get Over Everything

Sometimes, there are things in life that stick with us, and that’s OK. You don’t have to completely "get over" everything to move forward. Healing doesn’t always mean erasing the past or fully fixing everything. Sometimes it means learning to live with the things that still hurt and finding ways to move forward anyway. You’re allowed to take your time with this.

SIDE NOTE ON EGO, BELITTLING & LACK OF SELFWORTH

Even if you are intelligent and successful, the ego’s entanglement with self-worth can become even more pronounced — and sometimes destructive. Intelligence and achievements may give you the tools to rationalize your worth outwardly, but when unworthiness festers beneath the surface, it doesn’t just erode your own sense of peace. It can also distort how you treat others, especially those who have hurt you.

Here’s how it happens: when someone wounds you — whether through criticism, rejection, or disrespect — your ego instinctively goes on the defensive. If you’re already carrying feelings of unworthiness, the hurt digs into those tender spots, whispering, “See? They think you’re not enough, too.” The ego, determined to shield you, reacts not with vulnerability but with attack. And often, that attack takes the form of belittling the person who hurt you.

You might focus on their flaws, their failures, their ignorance. The ego tells you, “If I can prove they’re beneath me — if I can highlight how wrong or inadequate they are — then I’ll feel powerful again.” And for a fleeting moment, it might work. Belittling someone who hurt you can give the illusion of regaining control, of flipping the power dynamic. It feels like striking back at the source of your pain.

But here’s the truth: this doesn’t heal anything. It doesn’t actually repair your self-worth or soothe the deeper wound. Instead, it reinforces the ego’s grip on your identity, perpetuating a cycle of insecurity and defensiveness. Belittling others — especially those who’ve hurt you — might feel like justice, but often it’s the ego’s way of avoiding the harder work of acknowledging your pain and addressing the root of your own feelings of inadequacy.

What makes this even more complicated is that for intelligent and successful people, this pattern can become especially insidious. Your sharp mind and wit can craft cutting remarks that feel justified, even logical. You can intellectually dismantle someone who hurt you, proving their faults with precision. But no matter how “right” you might be, it doesn’t solve the underlying problem: that their actions touched a part of you that already felt fragile, and the ego is trying to mask it with dominance.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t set boundaries or hold people accountable for hurting you. But when the response is rooted in tearing others down, it often reflects your own inner struggle rather than a true resolution. True strength doesn’t come from diminishing others; it comes from healing your own wounds, so their actions no longer have power over you.

When you start addressing your own sense of unworthiness — recognizing your value as unconditional and independent of anyone else’s opinion or treatment — the need to belittle others fades. You begin to see that their actions, while hurtful, don’t define you. And in that clarity, the ego can finally step aside, allowing you to respond with self-assurance rather than retaliation.

oh, by the way, I am still trying to put a leash on many wolves while writing and I still don’t know how many wolves there are.

I am no saint, If you have no ego I salute you.

an eye for an eye, but if an eye for an entire body, well, there is a problem.

take care .