Entries tagged with "self esteem"
I am a 22 year old sex addict. I decided when I was 15 that I wanted to wait to do “the deed” until I met someone that I actually cared about. After years of high school heckling and countless “Virgin Mary” references my first few years of college, I finally found a man that I absolutely adored. It was the best night of my life; I was 21 years old. I didn’t just let this man inside of me, I let him into my heart. A few days later, he broke it off, explaining that “You’re just not what I want in a woman.” My self-esteem took a major hit. Soon after, I started partying more and more. I began using my body as my defense mechanism. Sleeping with every man that seemed to get a hard-on when I’d touch his arm. From bathroom sex at parties to seducing coworkers to a hotel room during our lunch break. I decided that instead of allowing a man to use me, I’ll use him first! I’m always left feeling empty, but at least I can’t get hurt.
I didn’t know I was hurting myself. Not at first. I was 9, wasn’t it natural to pull your hair out in clumps, because the pain soothed you and made you not think about how disgusting you were, how inferior to your sister, how unstable your family environment was?
And at 11, isn’t it natural to play with fire? Letting the hot wax fall and harden on your skin, because it was distracting you from your father’s affair, your parents divorce, their shipping you out to live with your alcoholic uncle and crazy grandmother who believed women were made for cooking and cleaning?
And at 14, look! Other people hurt themselves too, by cutting themselves. But see, no one takes it seriously. It’s just silly teenage girls being stupid. Do it, so you don’t have to think… then you recognize the problem, because your mother is sobbing and telling you to stop.
So you do.
But you become homebound, at 15. You don’t want to go out. Why would you? You’ll only be criticized for being so fat and ugly and poor.
But then, at 20, you can’t. And you have to go out. And now what? You start picking at your skin. But this is natural, right? Not a problem.
But it is. You’re still hurting yourself, and this time, again, you didn’t even know it.
But it’s soothing, so how can you stop?
I’m 21 years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I am funny, charming, smart, and have a pretty face… but I am overweight, and I always have been. I don’t have unsightly fat rolls or anything, but I do have very large hips, legs, arms, and an unnaturally huge ass. I’ve been dieting and working out for as long as I can remember, but to no avail. I fear that sooner or later, I’ll have to just accept that this is how I am… but as of now, I just can’t. I hate everything about my body, and no one understands, because none of my friends or family are overweight. Guys never want to date me… they only want to have sex with me, in secret. I do my best to stay positive but at night, when I’m laying in bed alone, I can’t help but wonder, ‘Why me? Why was I born like this, when my best friends were born perfect and beautiful? Why aren’t there any good men out there that will see me for who I am inside, instead of the size of my body? When is it going to be MY turn to be happy?’
No one knows how depressed and lonely I truly am, and I hate that I can’t talk to anyone about it. The few times I’ve tried, all anyone has to say is, “Be patient, you’ll find someone when you least expect it.” Thanks for trying, but that is honestly the last thing I want to hear. I’m very quickly losing faith.
I am 30 years old. I live in my parent’s basement. They did it to help me go to college. I am currently working full time and going to college full time. I feel like I will never leave their basement. My fiance left because of it, but he wasn’t working to help out. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone else due to low self esteem from weight issues. I wish people could see past the few pounds I’m overweight and actually give me a chance. But, as shallow as people don’t like to see themselves, they are. It has given me the worst self esteem out of anyone I know. I wanted to write to maybe hopefully change one persons mind about the way they view other people. Just because someone is slightly overweight, does not mean they are dirty, trashy or stupid. We know we’re heavy. You don’t have to give us dirty looks, some of us try to not be that way but it is hard. Look what you’ve done to my self esteem. My weight comes from a surgery that went wrong. I did not eat myself into oblivion. Look what you did to my trust. No one wants me.
The summer I was 17, I fell in love with a boy who was visiting my hometown for a month. We spent 22 days straight together. I loved our time, I was so happy, and felt so beautiful. One night I hugged him and made a remark at how skinny he was, and then he said he was self-conscious about it and that he was skinnier than me. We had to part after the 22 days, he moved on and I didn’t, not right away at least. But ever since he’d said that – I’ve had body-image issues, and ultimately an eating disorder. I don’t even think he meant anything of it, but it stuck. Already at a slim 120 lbs, I changed my diet drastically and exercised and lost 15-20 lbs. I had to gain it back, and so I did and have been uncomfortable with it. When I started college I started purging after eating to lose the weight. I’m still trying to get over the bulimia, and think I’m almost there.
I’ve never been the one to take initiative when it comes to relationships. Drunken hook-ups seem to be the easiest—liquid courage is such a truthful lie; it doesn’t make me feel more confident so much as if I’m drunk I can use it as an excuse in the morning.
It’s so hard to admit that you really like someone—that you’ve liked this someone forever, but because you’re so self-conscious and lacking some major self esteem you couldn’t go for it. I wish I had been able to just put myself out there because if I had then my best friend wouldn’t be getting married to someone that isn’t me.
I don’t even have to see him every day, even after months apart at college he can make me smile, make me laugh. He makes me feel comfortable with myself and I love every second that I’m with him.
Now I have to be happy for him, and I am happy for him, but so mad at myself. Maybe it still would have all turned out the same way, but maybe it could have been completely different.
I have a lumpy butt, and because of it I don’t let guys ‘do it from behind’. I hate when they feel my butt because I’m afraid they can feel the lumps. I want to tell a doctor or something about my butt, but it’s so embarrassing.
If I didn’t have this, I would be perfectly fine with my body. I’m not overweight, I’m average for a girl my height. I just want this horrible nuisance to go away.
I want to change the world. The easiest and most effective way to do this (I decided) is to become a director. To make movies. I want people to learn and grow when the watch my films. I want the world to know what I have to say.
That is the prelude and the result of my story.
I think I might be gay. I have had that thought for a long time but I haven’t ever REALLY tested it for sure. Why? Well time plays into it. So does my awkwardness. But I digress. I can figure that part out on my own but what will people think of me? That is the most difficult question to try to answer because fear is a much stronger contributing factor than hope. I decided not to worry about it for the longest time. I can just live life and deal with my other issues (I’m not plagued with issues though). In this struggle to know what the world thinks, I think I finally figured it out. I will tell the world what to think. I will tell stories that CAUSE the world to think (Though it really isn’t all that bad I promise). I look at the stars every night and imagine more. I want the world to know what I see and that has led me to want to become a director.
Also I am pretty decent at making movies.
My anxieties keep me from doing… anything. From meeting new people, experiencing new things. I can’t get on crowded buses or go to crowded places without feeling like I’m going to cry. I can’t hold conversations with strangers. I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel inadequate, like I am incapable of doing things that most people can- like driving or getting a part time job- even though I know I am. I worry about everything. Everything.
I don’t know how I’m going to make it in life.
I drink a lot. There are many reasons for it, but the primary reason is that when I drink, I feel like I’m my truest self. My tongue gets looser and my inhibitions crumble completely and I can say and be exactly who I always am but never can be. I love it and am terrified to ever stop. If it was truly up to me, I would just go through life drunk all the time. Then people would see the real me and not this fake, diluted, pretend me. My thought process is always: what I actually think – what I know will hurt your feelings – my fear of embarrassment – my fear of your judgment + how society says I’m supposed to feel = what actually comes out of my mouth. It’s exhausting. So…just one more drink please?
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