To be honest, I won’t post most of the thoughts I have when I can’t, or don’t want to sleep, I am sure someone would have me committed! I will tell you, some nights are certainly worse than others, and tonight is no exception.
Tonight, I am having troubles with how I perceive myself, and how others perceive me. I have had low self-esteem for as long as I can remember. And baby, low self-esteem can fuck with your head, in a big way.The earliest memory I have regarding body image? I would have been maybe 7 or 8. This was back when parents let their kids have fun, run the neighborhood without hovering. There was a lake about a mile or 2 from my house, all the kid would go there in the summer to swim, and in the winter to skate. Heh, I can remember, there was this island near the middle, the older kids would swim or boat to it, I assume now that it was to drink or make out, but back then, I just figure it was some big fun older thing to do. I so badly wanted to join them, I would try so hard. But it was maybe a half mile from shore, maybe less, maybe more. I really don’t know, through child eyes it seemed like you’d need a plane.
On the edge of the shore there was a wharf that we all would jump from and play around. It got us out so much further to try. As one of the youngest I always had to fight harder to show I had what it took to be part of the group. Looking back, I know that much of the teasing and egging on was done with friendly intentions, I was looked after and dare I say, even respected for what I would do and try. But, adult knowledge does not over power childhood thought, even if it was falsely formed.
I was always the center of the games. If it was hide-n-seek, I was the seeker, if it was red rover, I was rover. And when we swam? I was orca, “Watchout! Here comes the big fat orca. Watch out or she’ll crush you.” Now, it took me a long time to feel the sting of the words, at first I was just happy the older kids were playing with ME, and not heading off to the island. But as time past and I became the butt of kids jokes in school, all the words began to etch themselves into every fiber of my being, forming who and what I am today.
As a teen I was shunned for not being popular, or being to much of a tom boy, preferring my brothers friends, who respected me and feared me (At the time That was how they treated me, I do know better now). Looking back, I am pretty sure many of the girls were jealous, and the boys, well, curious. You see, I got my breasts in grade 2 – 3. Got my period the end of grade 3. I had the body to go with it, and at that age, that is seen as fat to the girls, and to boys? Well, we know what most boys think of breasts, even at that age.
I was the odd ball, and out cast. As a teen I began to embrace that view and became even more of a freak. And of course, all that time, over the years, I would eat my feelings away. I ended up being what I was accused of all those years.
Oh god, I look back now at photos in my early teen years, and even as a young adult? I shake my head. How the hell I ever thought I was fat is beyond me. Oh, sure, I was a size 12, a bit padded, but never fat. I seldom look at them, but when I see those pictures, I wish to fuck I could go back and kick some sense into my brain. I had CURVES in all the right places, I had a body. But I believed the whispers and the looks and the slurred insults. I believed every last word.
The sad part of this whole story? I didn’t really start letting it seep into my bones, and soul until around grade 10 or 11. Shockingly, I even wore dresses back then. To SCHOOL even. Yep, I know, a shock. Thing is? I had this one teacher that had the mentality of a teenager. He’d call the pretty girls to the front of the class, or make snide remarks about the not so pretty.
I got called up once. I was wearing a calf length white dress. Oh, I LOVED that dress. I felt like I could conquer the world in that dress. No word could touch me while I wore that dress. I got glares from the girls, and winks from the boys. I was on cloud nine. Until he called me up in front of the class.
Yep. I was a straight A student in that class. On my OWN MERITS thank you very much. Actually liked that class.
He pulled me up at the start of class, “Now girls, this is how a young lady should dress. Isn’t she pretty? Not too much skin showing, but a nice tease with the hole in the back,” His hand rested on the small of my back. “See how the dress clinks to her chest without being to tight or revealing? THIS is how a lady should dress in my class.”
Now come on, I was what, 15? maybe 16? I had no CLUE what to do or say. Tell my parents? Are you fucking nuts? Like they’d believe me. If I had a class I didn’t like it was always the teachers fault. And telling the principal (he already did not like me, and I HATED him), and guess who was a councilor? Yep, the teacher in the above memory. No way was I going to talk to a friend about my problems, considering the class reaction to what he said. The girls glared or snorted, and the boys leered and touch as I went back to my seat.
After that was when I began to wear baggy shirts and jeans to school, even in June when temperatures climbed I would wear my jacket in his class. Of course, I was pointed out a few more times to show how a girl can get fat when she let’s her self go … Told him to fuck off and walked out of class the second time? It was near the end of the school year, and I had already failed, he had told me that. Pretty sure that was around the time I finally told mom?
Even though majority of the class still copied my answers and were getting A’s and B’s, I began to fail.
When I finally told my mom, I don’t remember much about the day, I just remember her showing me the dress and asking me why she had found it in the garbage, after all, there was nothing wrong with it. Some how that got on to a lecture about the 2 classes I had with that teacher, and why had I failed? That’s why she was sending me to summer school (with that teacher). I got so mad! Oh fuck did I get mad. I think I even threw a book at Mom? I finally told her. She called the school, reported the teacher. Needless to say nothing was ever done, but I sure had a lot more run ins with the principal.
That’s when I learned to keep my mouth shut about anything. Also when I learned the looser the clothing, the less attention you get.
Now, you might be asking what the hell all this long-winded bullshit has to do with the title of this post. I am getting there buddy, I promise. All of that was to point out the biggest reasons I have self-esteem issues. So much more adds to that. Little things. You take one or two big events and pile small stuff in, and eventually all you have is one ball of self loathing.
Think of it this way, You have a jar (me), you add in some large rocks (the 2 big events), throw in some sand (little stuff like Mom pointing out I was gaining weight and maybe I should eat less junk, or my clothes not fitting, etc.), now pour in the water (my own voice telling me how I was a fat, worthless, loser). You now have a jar that is ONLY full of self loathing and doubts.
Hell, poor hubby was asked a billion times “WHY do you want to marry me? Why do you love me?” Thing is? He still did, still shows me every single day in all sorts of ways that he loves me, no matter what. 😀 Still will turn off the lights during sex, and sometimes I can’t even undress in front of him. WHY he still loves me I will never know, but I am damned glad he does. ❤
Sorry for the WAY off topic bit. Back to my point.
The point is, it’s not just body issues, it’s self-worth. And sometimes that spills over into my dreams and sometimes even my waking brain mutters in the corner of my mind. Which adds to my bouts of sleeplessness. Health is the main contributor to that, but mental state is up there.
It is also why I get depressed. Oddly, also why I have mild (self-diagnosed) OCD, and probably even why I refuse to cry.
*smirk* I could have been a psychologist I am sure. I have been told I have AMAZING ability to read people and give great advice. Though I KNOW my issues, I don’t bother to solve them. That’s another story.
Now to the meat of this post, yes, I am long winded. You should know that by now, so here is the:
My brain is whispering in my ear regarding this whole adoption information thing.
See, it is telling me that 1.) YES the information will be there 2.) YES I will look it all up and 3.) There is NO POINT in contacting my bio folks because I am both worthless and not good enough.
Ahh, see? The crutch of it all. I KNOW it is a lie, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. And that is why when I sleep my brain insists on my bio parents (one or both, depends on the dream) being famous. Which leads to so SO many different outcomes. Some mildly embarrassing, some downright cruel.
See, I have to be honest now for you to understand why after seemingly only 1 night this may sound like I am making a mountain out of a mole hill, but I have actually been thinking about this for almost 3 weeks. I have known for a few years I could get my medical history, just never bothered. But with my health as it is now, I figured it might come in handy. I debated about looking it up mid May? But forgot for a few days, that’s when the dreams started. At first it was GREAT. everything from famous bio-folks treating me and my family like gods, to average Joe bio-folks just treating me like I was theirs forever. ALWAYS got along with my Mom and Dad.
But, the last few weeks or so the dreams have turned vicious. I won’t go into who is who and shit, but most of them are about me being related to someone famous that I really admire (slightly obsessed with. hehe), and wow, yeah, I thought teenagers could be cruel. Oh hell. More often than not I wake up in a sweat or with tears in my eyes. One dream, my whole town just… yeah, even my husband and son treated me differently. It was like I didn’t exist. I couldn’t get arrested or buy things or even be looked at. Eventually, I actually disappeared. Just *POOF* gone. That’s when I woke up.
SO not fun.
Which, is why I am awake at 2:45 in the morning, drinking coffee and making the longest rambling post I have probably ever made.
Oddly? I am not feeling depressed (which is good, or I probably would have added THAT story in there. Not going into that again. Read my post from about a month ago). But I find I am feeling somewhat anxious. Which is odd since I seldom have anxiety. Not in a “oh, let’s calm you down or get help” sort of way at least.
Thankfully, this post is helping some, but mostly I just feel deflated. Not happy, not sad, not even depressed, just … I don’t know? Resigned? Certainly tired.
It seems lately all I do is fight to get over any feelings I have. I fight to be happy, I fight to stay happy, I fight to feel, I fight and I fight. It feels like a losing battle some days. And I am just. worn. out.
Hell, my house could tell you that! NOTHING is done. The few good days I do have I try to enjoy so do nothing. When I did do the floors the other day I loved it. Felt like I could do more the next day. It went away.
And it is so hard with a teenaged son who doesn’t really do a lot (Though, he does do some laundry, when needed). And my husband, I don’t expect him to do much. He has the park to care for (mowing and such) and plus he is still dealing with his anxiety and depression …
I just get very overwhelmed with it all. So, rather than pick at it slowly, I let it sit and mock me adding to the weight of it all. Not smart, but it’s what happens. I know better, but yet I still do nothing.
Look, I just re-read the last half of this post, and I want to assure you, I am NOT giving up. I am NOT going to do anything drastic (that’d take energy, think I have that? hahaha … That’s a joke. sheesh). I am just venting the only place I can.
I have no friends, I can’t tell my husband or he becomes more anxious and depressed, I am NOT going to burden my son with this. He has his own life to live (eventually?), and telling Mom? Mmm That can go well, or horribly bad. I never know which way, so best to just not say anything.
So you lucky (poor) bastards are the ones who get all my shit in one large steaming pile. Lucky eh? 😉
Nope, I’ll be fine. I just have to work it out. It just takes more work when you do it alone. which leads to being so damned tired of it all. Just need someone to buy me a massage and a month long everything included vacation. hehehe (Pstt, that’s withOUT the family for at least 2 weeks. 😉 )
ok. It’s now 3:10 (not to Yuma. ha ha ha )
Off to Netflix