Thursday, February 1, 2018

Why I Don't Love Myself - A Treatise on Self-loathing

I don't love myself. I don't know that I ever have. Why, my therapist asked? Hmmm. That's not an easy question to answer. Not because I don't know, but because I know that I should love myself. I hate it that the sexual abuse I experienced as a child and the rape at age 18 turned me into an eating machine. First my body was violated by others and then it is violated by myself as I continue to store fat to protect me from being hurt again. I'm in a constant battle with my body, losing 20 pounds and then regaining it when someone comments on my weight loss. My fat forms a shield around me but that leaves me feeling horribly alone. I fail to appreciate all that my body does for me because I'm caught up in how ugly I look in the mirror. There is nothing pretty about 402 pounds. And I'm tired of hearing that I have such a pretty face because that "but" packs a real punch. So I eat a whole box of Girl Scout cookies while pretending that I'm eating celery and hating the fact that I am so weak willed.

I feel like I'm failing as an adult. I am embarrassed by my mental illnesses that prevent me from working. The OCD and bipolar disorder leave me fighting just to be okay. I hate that I have to write numbers in a frenzy in order to calm myself down. I hate that I have to have everything lined up just so on my bookshelf and that I can't leave my apartment without checking my books to see if they are still in alphabetical order. I hate that I see bugs crawling everywhere when I haven't been able to sleep. I hate that my racing thoughts prevent me from reading a book most days. I feel like my mind is controlled by outside forces that I can't stop. I used to be a successful Occupational Therapist. Now I'm barely able to do my own ADLs. I'm afraid to meet new people because inevitably the question "So, what do you do?" is asked and my answer is sadly "I exist". I often feel like I have nothing to live for. That makes my existence almost unbearable.

I struggle with accepting my sexuality. I feel like God made a mistake. I feel guilty and ashamed that I am gay. I don't like believing that my attraction to women is wrong but what if it is? Do I want to take that chance? And so I try to ignore my feelings and pretend that I am "normal". I'm angry that I'm not married to a man and the mother of three children. My feelings prevent me from having a family because I so rigidly define what constitutes a family. My life would be so much easier if I could just accept the truth about myself and stop second guessing my Creator. I so desperately want to be loved by someone but I am afraid.

I'm angry that I think so much. I spend way too much time in my own head. When will I get tired of living this way? Is it too late to learn to love myself? I hope not because I am the one who is hurting.