The people that were commenting on a podcast I was listening to about breasts were doing so in a comedic manor. They were not trying to be sexist or hurt anyone’s feelings. I have a tendency to take things personally because of my own problems with self-esteem and body image.
When I look in the mirror most of the time I don’t like what I see. I still see a 270 pound woman who was bullied and mocked for most of her life. That’s my problem no one else’s.
My family has never even commented on the fact that I am literally half the person I used to be. No one has said a positive thing about the way I look. They have commented when my weight went down to 119 pounds that I looked “horrible”, “skeleton like”, “anorexic”, and “sickly”. They were correct. I didn’t know I was in Kidney Failure and that was why my weight kept dropping. Now that I am at a healthy weight they say nothing. I don’t understand the reasoning behind this. Again it goes back to validation. Something I always seem to want. It’s something I have always struggled with. The need to fit in or to feel like I belong. Part of it is because I’m Bipolar and the feeling never goes away completely.
It isn’t easy to live a life where you constantly feel uncomfortable no matter where you are or who you are with. When you live with nonstop doubt in your head and feel you were never meant to be or exist.
This feeling is compounded by being a twin. For some reason I have always thought there should’ve only been one of us, my sister. She is the “normal” one. She has done everything that I imagine a “normal” woman would do. She went to college, dated, got engaged, married, bought a house, and had 2 children. I wasn’t able to do any of that and wondered if it was for a reason.
I have to try harder than most people to distract my brain from focusing on these thoughts. It isn’t easy. Medication and therapy has not been successful due to my late diagnosis, alcoholism, and other factors. But I keep trying. I will always make mistakes. I will always own up to them if I can realize that I’ve made them. Talking openly about it is the only way I know to work through it.