I hate myself.
No, I didn’t do anything in particular to earn that. It’s just a generalized statement. I’ve been dealing with this low self esteem issue for about two decades now, and lately it’s been harder to fake not hating myself than usual. Maybe it’s the bronchitis’ fault, I dunno. But I wanted everybody to know just how low I am. Don’t believe the happy, peppy Amber that bounces about like her life is perfect. The Amber which is so damn great at faking confidence. It’s all a lie. One so big that I even believe it sometimes. I really mostly just hate myself.
I have so many reasons to, after all. I’m not very attractive. I can’t just walk into a store and know that they have my size. Even the plus sized specialty stores sometimes don’t go big enough for me to wear their stuff. I can’t buy jeans at Walmart, for example. They’re too small on my hips. My big, fat, disgusting hips.
I’m crazy. That’s the big one. I’ve got scars on my wrists, on my leg, my thigh (those are new), all caused by me. Razor blades, knives, fingernails, scissors, gods only know what else. I can’t keep my head together for very long. I sometimes just want to curl up and cry, and lately I’ve been doing that in bed at night. I almost wonder if it’s time for another hospitalization. I don’t know any more. My brain just does not like me lately.
My future is bleak. I keep getting told that I might fail and lose my SSI for good. The worst part is, I know that’s true. If I can’t make it in the office job they’re going to get for me, I don’t really have much else I could do. If I can’t keep a job, I have no future, no hope, no life. I have to make it in Dayton. I have no choice. Do you realize how damn scary that is?
And there’s all the fun relationshippy bits running around lately. I’m dying of loneliness, and I hoped a little too much that a boyfriend would help that. I get too excited about maybe being saved from the prison I’m in here at Lakeview, and I scare the guys off. I can’t have the guys I want, and can’t want the guys that want me. Believe me, I’ve tried. I’m not a Disney princess, but my brain hasn’t realized this yet. I keep thinking my prince will save me some day, but my prince doesn’t exist. And that thought right there has killed me more than anyone will ever know.
So yeah, basically, I’m in hell right now, but I can never seem to tell people this stuff straight out. Except for my therapist, who’s sick so I can’t even talk to him about my brain exploding with suck. I have no idea who’s going to read this. I know at least a few people from Lavish, maybe a few on my Facebook friends list. And for that, I thank you guys. I’m just so sad right now. I want a hug. But I’m too sick to go anywhere, and I don’t get my car back for a week. Digital hugs?