Baby steps but keep moving forward. Insecurity hates when we don’t obey it and stay stagnant.

#insecurity #insecurityaddiction #rebeccaodonnell #selfharm #healfromabuse

Some years back, I worked at a beautiful little shop on Long Island that sold fine porcelain, crystal and gorgeous handcrafted pieces. The owners had moved out of state, so I ran the shop alone for years until they moved back. A lot of wonderful people came in to admire and buy, and it was a lot of fun to run the place. Great stories, great characters, beautiful art all around me. Here’s one of its stories.

We insecurity addicts are brutal to our inner child. Like any addiction, insecurity gnaws on us as long as we’re using, and man, this thing has teeth. So a good way to begin getting it under control is to pull those teeth out, one by one. I tell people it’s like Herbie the dentist in Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. Sure, the Bumble monster is terrifying when he shows those chompers, but toothless, his bite is far less damaging and a lot less scary. To control my own insecurity, I do self love exercises every day. Little silly things that seem like nothing, but every one is important. Marie Curie said every new discovery is like a candle in the dark, lighting the way to truth. So each day you do one of these exercises, even when you think they’re the stupidest thing ever devised, keep doing them. Persistent repetition is the key. Rant and rave all you want against anything remotely self loving, but keep at it. Hell, I hit myself in the face when I first started doing them. Telling myself “I love you, Rebecca” seemed an almost blasphemous lie, and my internal raging and self abuse went haywire. But that’s the addiction fighting you. Insecurity has to have an environment of bitter hopelessness and crushing loneliness in which to thrive. It shrivels up when its home is stripped of emotional misery and rotting dreams. Nasty little bugger. Remember, each exercise you do is a bit of light to help warm you, help you see the truth. Hesitancy, fear, self hatred, despair; they’re all cold bedfellows. They don’t like the light and they sure as hell don’t want you warm and comfy inside. I’ve gone from a suicidal, self-harming, miserable wreck to a woman whose soulmate is…myself. I’d always dreamt of a hero to come in and save me, to say encouraging words and truly love me. But most using insecurity addicts would tell a hero to get lost A: Because we don’t think we deserve them B: We only know monsters are the most suitable for losers like us. Destroying our own firm foundation is a classic trick to guarantee that we won’t see situations clearly. If we never had a firm foundation, we have to learn that shit from scratch. That’s how I did it.
One of the first exercises I did was refrain from self abuse. Start with that. No inner insults, no outer self abusing jokes (that one was hard because I was funny about insulting myself and could always get people to laugh), no bitching at myself for making a mistake, or a wrong decision, or shriveling when a bully attacked me. That one, the inner abuse, surprised me with how hard it was to stop. I actually missed it. Just like bullying is also a behavioral addiction, I got a rush out of being cruel and nagging to myself. We vent on ourselves 24/7 and the worst truth of all is, we enjoy the bludgeoning we do to ourselves. But that person we’re stomping on is literally ourselves. Then we attack ourselves for attacking ourselves and being a weak mewling chickenshit loser who lets ourselves bully ourselves. Spelled out like this, you can see how sneaky and absurd an insecurity addiction is. It burrows about, whispering hatred, radiating disappointment, raging against anything positive we might do for ourselves, or even if if something good is given to us from others. We belittle it. Back in the misery days, I could never just accept a compliment. I always tossed a shrug of a disclaimer comeback to anyone’s compliment.

”Your hair looks pretty today.”

“Thanks, it’s fake. I dye it.”

”Your painting is beautiful.”

”Thanks. I’m not happy with that part there, in the right corner.”

“That was nice, helping that old lady across the ice.”

”I was sure I’d fall and pull her down with me. At least she could have bounced on my fat ass and saved from a broken hip.”

See the places where my insecurity broke the benefits of a kind word? I insisted my hair couldn’t possibly be pretty natural (it was), I said my painting was lousy (it wasn’t), I was more likely putting the old lady in danger because I was a stupid klutz (I wasn’t), and I had so much – gasp – fat – that the only thing I was good for was to be a worthless ugly blob for people to fall on. Analyzing your own brutality becomes quite fascinating. But shutting down the vicious inner dialogue is key. It’s a hard one, and your insecurity addiction will bring out the big guns to fight you. It likes its cushy bile dripping home inside our heads, and it’ll fight HARD to keep it. Doesn’t matter. Keep at it. Persistent repetition every day. And remember: You’re not a piece of shit. You never were. It was always a lie.

R

#childabuse #selfharm #rebeccaodonnell #bullying #selflove #suicidal #insecurity #selfhatred #insecurityaddict #selfloveexercises

Bullying is actually a behavioral addiction, with lots of tentacles reaching out in every direction. There’s the bully themselves, getting a rush out of inflicting harm on another person or creature, coupled with the fear of most watching. There’s the common (albeit very unfortunate), spin-off addiction of the battered victim. I’ve talked to domestic violence survivors who are not blind to their abuser’s cruelty; it gives them a sense of power to stay with someone nobody else would tolerate for a day. “ No one could take what I take,” one woman told me. “I’m the only one. Without me, he’d be alone.” There’s the general crowd who know about and even witness the bully tormenting a victim. Fear keeps them silent, then shame afterwards eats at them. Cruelty is always awful. There’s nothing to be admired about it. So, observe the bullies around you, do some inner searches to discover if you’re as worthless and cowardly as you think you are (you’re not), and realize that you’re nobody’s fix,

Just read this on Amazon Reviews. Wow. Thank you, Oran!

A book for children AND adults!
Reviewed in the United States on July 29, 2025

We just received our copy the other day and I was so excited to finally read it. It is indeed a children’s book, but I think I enjoyed it (and needed it) just as much! A beautifully illustrated and well written story of just how powerful words can be. What a much needed reminder in the world today when it seems like words are not heard. Say it!

I am stunned and beyond grateful to have the brilliant Word Artist Scott Hastie, Poet London, review Manifest Destiny!

A Highly Visual, Engaging and Fast-Paced Novel

”Vividly, elegantly and intelligently put together, ‘Manifest Destiny’ is a highly visual, engaging and fast-paced novel. At times a tough read, this is a fearlessly written, highly imaginative narrative which takes you on a challenging journey that looks to provide you with a futuristic glimpse of all that is both pernicious and yet again redemptive at the core of the human experience. It was perhaps serendipity that the very night before I settled down to read this gloriously ambitious work, I was up late into the night watching the director’s cut of Francis Ford Coppola’s masterpiece ‘Apocalypse Now.’ So all I have left to say is: ‘Waken up Hollywood!’ And do a deal for this creative property fast…What both Rebecca O’Donnell and Sabatino Stefanile have so boldly and bravely summoned up between them here in the form of ‘Manifest Destiny’ is no less than the ‘Heart of Darkness’ for the 21st Century.”

Scott Hastie, Writer & Poet London

I am thrilled to find out Hurt Magic is appearing in libraries! Thank you, All who’ve worked so hard to get this very important book out there for kids who’ve been bullied or abused. I wrote something that would have comforted me as a child, and illustrated it with the bright colors and funny art that captivated me back then. Still love them!

I’ve started working on the second Charlie book in the trilogy about his experiences in the Pacific in World War ll. The first was Bougainville, this second is Guam, and the third will be Iwo Jima. I am grateful beyond measure to his brother and sister Marines of the Third Marine Division group I belong to, who set this dumb civilian straight about so many things I was unsure of. I’ll soon be badgering and begging them for info and insight as I dive into the abject horror of Guam as my beloved stepdad Charlie remembered it. Over a decade of interviewing him (I only saw him once a year each summer), endless research and the gracious courage of this great man in trusting me enough to share his story, has led to the creation of these books.