I Don’t Like Myself

Ever since my first week back home, I’ve had this unsettling feeling. We all have those moments when we’re not big fans of ourselves. The first week home was both exciting and tough. Very tough. I reached the end of it tired, frustrated and called M almost in tears. Told him that I don’t like myself right now, and haven’t for a while. It’s just a horrible feeling, but a very true one.

The same way we have phases with everyone else – when we’re connected and there’s an easy relationship, and then not. I’m having that with myself, throughout 2017. Maybe it’s an awkward and disconnected phase. But it feels exhausting. It makes me anxious, sad and lacking confidence. I doubt every single decision I make, I feel like I’m disappointing everyone around me and myself, most of the time. I think hard about each little thing I say, detail about me and situation I go through.

Last week I was in Lisbon and I could not figure out why I was so tired, all the time. Then I circled back to those insecure feelings and bam. Realized that I was mostly doubting myself. There’s nothing really consistent in my life right now. It’s a high and low rollercoaster that’s taking me no where. I feel like I’m going in circles with these thoughts and feelings. Reaching no conclusion nor closure. I honestly don’t feel smart, witty, attractive or worthy. Of anyone’s time or attention. Words don’t easily come out of my mouth and I’m uncomfortable with most situations.

I don’t like myself. And I hate me for it. See how it’s going in circles? I feel drained out of every cell in my body and can’t quite verbalize it without feeling like it’s a complaint or a first world problem. We all have our shit to deal with, but matter of fact is, my shit is all over the place. And I’m tired of waiting for some big epiphany to happen. Sitting here, hand in my face, eyes wide open, not knowing what else to do. Thinking I want to get my life back right now. 

Then again, I don’t feel like I know who I am. This person I’ve become is not me. So attached to unimportant things and, against my better conscious, mean, selfish, alone. I reckon it could be because I spend so much time alone back in New York. And it’s a reflection of someone who has to care for herself and doesn’t know how to share, connect, empathize.

I want to let go, be there, listen, care. But usually keep it all to myself and convey this image that everything’s okay. Or at least want to believe it will be. When it’s not. And I’m tired of holding it all in because I’m scared. Scared of what others might think, say, do. Scared of comparing myself when I know I shouldn’t. I’ve been rambling, but thought you should know. There’s a reason why I haven’t been as active in posting, sharing and doing. And thought I owed you an explanation. Working on myself. Be right back.