The category “My Life” on this blog used to be a place where I would share what’s new with me, where I went, what I wore etc., but now it feels more like “Let me tell you what I discovered is wrong with me lately”.
Since I had my meltdown and decided to share it online, I received so much love and so much support and I had a feeling people cared about me and my wellbeing at a time I felt all alone. I had this urge not to disregard my meltdown but to work through it, confront my negative feelings, analyze my actions and so on. I guess I am not stopping any time soon with that because people, there is a lot to unpack.
The question I have been asking myself lately is “Why do I hate myself so much?”
The hate I feel for myself is very subtle and it manifests in toxic ways. For example, I have issues with my thyroid and I smoked for 7 years knowing it was bad for me. I would literally feel that uncomfortable feeling in my throat, I have cysts on my thyroid, my hair started to fall out, I developed skin problems because my hormones were all over the place, I will drink medication for the rest of my life because of it and I still smoked a pack a day for about 7 years with minor “I am going to quit” pauses.
As far as I can remember, I’ve had issues with my digestion, nutrition and immune system. I know how good and healthy I am when I stay away from sugar and candy, but do I actually do it? No. I started my Sugar free diary on my Youtube channel, I already failed at it and am starting fresh today. That fail was what inspired this post and also check out the video:
I never think about my addictions and actions in this way. I never thought that me smoking was a manifestation of some deep self-hatred or that me not staying away from sugar is a way for me to tell my body I hate it and that it doesn’t deserve better than to feel ill most of the time. Writing is my personal superpower, it heals me and it’s me therapy but whenever I feel bad or feel like I might sink into depression I decide to stop writing both on my blog and in my “diary”. It’s not only because I am lacking inspiration but it’s because I dislike myself so much that I don’t want to help myself sometimes and pick up my pen. Looking at it from this perspective, it’s diabolical.
I am the type of person that does not allow herself to be happy. I have my temporary fixes, hits of dopamine from indulging in sugar, buying clothes but I don’t, in general, let myself be happy. My mother went through hell to put me and my sister through school and to defend us from my abusive father, went to court when she couldn’t afford a lawyer to give us a better life and now that our heads are finally above water, now that we can finally swim after all these years of drowning, I cannot put myself in the headspace of gratitude, if not happiness. I know that my traumatic childhood has a lot to do with what I am experiencing as I am becoming and adult, I grew up not feeling okay, constantly waiting for something bad to happen. I think I described it best in Poem #333
This all perfectly feeds into my low self-esteem, body insecurities, thinking I am always underperforming in everything I do. I don’t know how I managed almost 25 years like this without being a shipwreck of a person. What makes the whole situation difficult is that I never developed the tendency to talk to people about my problems and struggles. I feel like I would be a burden for them or that someone would call me absolutely crazy, hence why I am always writing about it. A blank piece of paper is my best friend.
That was more than enough digging through my own wounds for today. I am going to meditate now because it helps.
Remind yourself every day of how great you are, loving yourself is something you can learn how to do every day. Check in on yourself and check in on your friends.