I returned from home last night. Less than 12 hours into my trip and I felt a deep self hatred. Self created.
I felt ugly and stupid and *insert every negative word here*. I also felt a deep guilt for deviating from my culture. I felt tainted. I felt like a lie.
I stood up for myself in situations only to be made aware that I do the same thing. I thought I was being strong but turned out I was just as obnoxious.
I wanted to buy hangers there cos I’d convinced myself it was cheaper there and easier. I found a great deal on them… But then ended up paying double it because my luggage was overweight.
I feel dumb.
My brother mocked me as I struggled to carry my bag and when I went to pay for the extra load. Not in any explicit way. Just a snide, it’s two days why is your bag so big… (I’d swopped my medium bag for my parents larger one to fit in everything). When my mum mentioned the hangers, his response was “you’re kidding me”.
All the new clothes I’d bought and wanted to show off felt tight and uncomfortable and revealing. Again I felt stupid. All that shopping and returning and over spending. To feel better about myself… And all I wanted to do was hide. But the one thing you can never hide is weight gain. It’s there. Your biggest insecurity for the world to see.
No one really picked on my weight explicitly. My dad mentioned I need to lose weight, my sister mumbled something. It mostly came from me. I needed some reassurance that I didn’t look as ugly as I felt… And when I didnt receive it from anyone, I started hating me. Asking for compliments also made things worse.
Then I get home and I realise I’m broke for this month. I have just enough for the bare necessities. As I calculate my budget and realise that I can make it through the month… Bamn, two speeding tickets in my post box and I forgot to calculate my electricity… And it’s out.
I feel like a complete failure. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this self loathing and need for approval. I’m broken.
I just feel massive and ugly and poor and broken and unlovable and a failure.
While home I also read about a writer whos published three best sellers and is two years younger than me. Another dream I couldn’t accomplish. Another goal I’ll never reach.
I think my self loathing is just too deep. The therapy wasn’t working.
For the next five months I’m seeing my family every month… Great. I don’t think I can deal.