Sometimes, I feel like two different people. On the one hand, I am aware that I have a loving nature and want to help people in whatever way I can. I'm not trying to be immodest with that statement, but honest. Anyway, on the other hand, I find that I totally dislike myself. I would even say that I despise myself in many ways. Do not take this as any sort of suicidal tendency (it's NOT), but I do often fantasize about how I'd like to kick myself, punch myself, stomp myself, cut myself, spit on myself, etc. You get the picture. MOm once found a letter that I had written to myself where I poured out my disgust of myself and she freaked! She was shocked and mad. Too bad. It was not meant to be read by her in the first place...No matter what I do, I never feel like it's good enough. Nothing can make up for my being me. Call it a pity party or whatever, but I feel such intense rage at myself. I can't help but believe that somehow there is just something about me that is repulsive and undeserving of anything good.
I can recall how that when I was young, I tried so hard to be a good girl. I can even say that I was mom's favorite because I worked at pleasing her and everyone. My sister was basically a good girl, but a lots more independent and stubborn. And she was pretty. She could just be pretty and she was accepted. I'd try to look decent and be kind and work for any approval I could get (BUT NEVER TO THE POINT OF KISSING A**!!). She could care less what anyone thought. She was actually wiser than me in matters like that. I wish I could've been more like her, but I'm me and could never be like her, although I respect her greatly!
I remember liking guys and they'd always be interested in her. NEVER me.
And then, when I got older and liked this one guy (who's much younger than me), he was attracted to me, but nothing came of it. I knew to not walk down that road. Even he would never admit to liking me, but even I being as ignorant about affairs of the heart as I am, could tell he was not adverse to me at all. I could've kissed him, but chickened out. I knew nothing good would come of it and I am/was right. Mostly because of my phobias and anxiety and being older, but also because he's a loner and has a selfish streak a mile wide. Nope. I do not regret avoiding that drama at all.
But for the most part, I think that there's something inheritantly disgusting about me that somehow people sense and I am hurt by it. But I can't blame them either. I know I've never been a beauty and yet, there's people a lot plainer/uglier than me that have had good lives. So it must not be just my lack of looks either.
Oh well, I really don't know what to think, but some days, I wish that I never had to deal with anyone again, especially myself.