Every time I admit it out loud or to someone else it feels like a sting of a whip. Acknowledging that my self-esteem is at an all time low. That I don’t like myself; to the point that I can’t see any good at all in myself or even any reason for existing other then taking care of the girls. I can barely look at my own reflection in the mirror because I don’t like who looks back at me.

I’m so tired of hearing the typical rhetoric of “So do something about it” or “You choose to feel this way” or having someone point out everything I’m not doing or doing wrong. To someone that already thinks so poorly of themselves it’s just a confirmation that they are in fact so flawed that other people that are incredibly flawed themselves can have the conviction to turn around and list bad things about you. This is the wrong way of thinking and looking at things, I know this…but I can’t see it any other way.

We’re taught that women with no confidence is so unattractive. That depression is just an excuse people use to justify their actions. So what happens? You fake it ’til you make it. You spend so much time pretending to be OK that you can barely focus on things and the people around you. It can seem very selfish of you to be so focused on yourself; your loved ones will get frustrated and feel so disconnected and like you don’t give a shit about them. When in reality that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality you’re trying to be as much of a functioning person as you can at the moment so you can get through THAT day.

You learn to smile on cue; that smile rarely touches the eyes though. You learn to say what you think others want to hear. Especially when you have tried to be open and vent about what’s really on your mind, only to be told that you’re so negative all the time. Or you’re told you’re lazy or a pessimist; you’re called miserable and angry. You’re told you don’t give a shit about anyone and never contribute or give anything back to others. So you basically learn how to shut up and eat it. You bite your tongue until it bleeds. You cry at night while others sleep. You cry in bathrooms when you’re alone. You find it hard to see colour in your world. But that’s your world, that’s your point of view.

Not everyone will get it or empathize or be supportive or able to say or do the things that will help you. You need to find your own coping mechanisms. So what’s my way? I’ll fake it ’til I make it…this can’t be life. There has to be more for me than this.

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