I spend the majority of my time wishing I was someone else. One of my friends or just someone else. Someone happy and full of passion and drive for what they love. Someone who knows who they are and what they love. Someone happy. But unfortunately enough, I’m stuck being me and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to change that. So I just have to ride out this life and see how long ’till I break because I’m pretty sure I’ve already broken a few times and I don’t really want to go through that again. Which makes me feel so so pathetic because I’ve seen, firsthand, how bad the things I have can get. Why am I crumbling under this? It should be so easy for me to be happy. The strength I’ve seen around me is astounding.
-Turning this post around-
But you know what? If other people can be that strong, so can I! I can do it. I can be happy and I can love life. I got this!
I’m learning to take the good with the bad and vice versa. But I just can’t seem to shake this feeling of inadequacy…or not even that…I just feel lost? Everyone else seems to be so sure of who they are, what they love, and where they want to go in life. I put up the front that I have it all together and I know what I want, but I haven’t a clue. I know there are certain things that I love and appreciate and I’m passionate about, but there’s not really anything that I’m so interested in I want to dive into it and learn everything I can. I want that kind of passion. I want to learn and love and live; I want to be more interesting and when someone asks what I’m good at, I want to have an answer. I don’t think I’m particularly good at anything and it feels like I’m just rolling through life with nothing particularly special about me and I hate that.
This is why I’m so insecure about who I am; or rather, who I’m not.
It can’t happen again. No matter how much you want it to. You’ll be happy with someone else, I promise. One day you’ll meet the person that you are meant to be with and it will all just make sense. He loves his ex and he doesn’t even realize it. Or he just doesn’t want you. Either way is okay and you’ll be alright. Okay? So pick yourself up, dust yourself off, cry if you need to, but then build a bridge and get over it.
Aside from family, there are two people in my life who I don’t just want in my life, I need them there. For my sanity and the preservation of what little self worth I have left. They are my support, my rocks, partners in crime, shoulders to cry on, my best friends. They are the most fantastically wonderful, beautiful, stupendous, amazing women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I love you ladies, please never leave me.
Gosh, I’m needy.
And in a way, my eating disorder, anxiety and depression tell me what to do. They tell me how I need to be feeling and what to do in order to feel good. I need to eat less. I need to be thin. I’m too fat so I need to be thin and then I’ll feel beter about myself and won’t be so depressed. I won’t feel so much anxiety about talking to people because they’ll like me if I’m thin. They won’t notice my awful, awkward personality if I’m thin, right? WRONG. No matter what weight I’m at, I’m still the same person. I need to learn to love myself.
I hate that these things have so much control over me. I NEED to have my own control over me.
I want love and hope and happiness. Why don’t I deserve that? Why was I dealt the cards that I was? Am I really that terrible to deserve to feel so lost? How do I find myself? Where do I go? What do I do with my life? Will I ever be loved? Will I ever feel secure in who I am? Why do I hate my body? Why am I so fat? Why am I so hairy? Why do I have to hate food so much? Why do I hate food and still crave so much of it? Why?
Will I ever recover?
My dad texted me last night. He said he was sorry, yet again and he said the he wants to fix what we have. I want that so badly. I want to be able to be one of those girls who’s proud to have a great relationship with her dad and who can go to him for comfort. He was just a source of so much hurt and pain for so long. I never realized it, but the way my dad talked to me when I was a pre-teen/teen resulted in my anxiety, low self worth, and ultimately depression. Now it’s not entirely his fault, because I could have worked on our relationship as well; but I was the hormonal teenager and he was the grown adult. He should have been the one to diffuse arguments, not escalate them by coming back at me with insults twice as bad. He made me feel like I’d never be good enough. Like I was too mean, weird, and awful of a person for anyone to want to be my friend. That’s not what dads are supposed to do. They’re supposed to lift you up and make you feel like you can conquer the world.
My daddy did that. Until I grew up and he didn’t.