To those who follow my blog, instagram and youtube, it would be easy to think that I’m an outgoing, vibrant and content individual. I mean, I’ve got to have bags of confidence and self-worth to put myself out there on the internet, right?
Earlier this week, I finally plucked up the courage to seek professional help after what I thought was months of putting it off, until I realised I’d been burying my feelings for much longer, years in fact.
I guess I’d been burying this negative cycle since I was a teenager and it’s crazy to think that now, at 26, I’ve only just realised that I need to get off the spiral and start enjoying my life.
I think my low self-esteem began when I was in my late teens, I was never the girl that the guys flocked to and I never felt attractive but I kind of just accepted that I wasn’t one of the ‘pretty girls’ at school. I always had lots of friends and was outgoing, I never struggled in social situations and I enjoyed myself – or at least that’s what I lead people to believe.
I must have been around 14 when I first started self-harming, I began cutting my arms and legs with a razor blade, a stanley knife or whatever I could get my hands on and hide under my mattress. I don’t really remember what triggered it, I guess I felt out of place, misunderstood and in particular, angry at the world. My parents were divorcing and I often felt in the middle and being the eldest child, I understood a lot more than my brother. Along with the weight of the impending divorce, I’d obviously begun to take an interest in boys and wanting to be grown up and have a boyfriend. However, found that whenever I liked a boy, I felt fine if it was a secret but if I plucked up the courage to tell anyone, the news would get back and it would go down like a lead balloon. I once got told – by a boy that I really liked – never to wear a skirt to school again because it made him feel sick. That’s always something which sticks in my mind, I guess it’s the cruel things you remember more than anything. I often felt ridiculed and singled out because I wasn’t the prettiest, the thinnest nor did I have the biggest chest (the latter has since changed!) – so I’d feel like I wasn’t good enough and I’d be told just that.
I’d drink a lot, to the point where I’d come home absolutely steaming, often needing to be carried and I’d be violently sick. One night, I got in a bit of an argument with my Dad and this resulted in me showing my Mum what I’d been doing and they were both horrified and didn’t understand why. I had to go to the doctors where I was sent to an anger management course with other teenagers and I only went twice because I didn’t think I needed to be there because my pain wasn’t as bad as theirs. There were kids who’d had awful childhoods and had been horrifically bullied – that wasn’t me. I just hated everything. I grew out of the cutting but even now, I do get the urge but for some reason my mind just tells me it’s a bad road to go down.
If you read my weight and me post, you’ll know that I never felt particularly huge until my ex-boyfriend broke up with me because he wasn’t attracted to me anymore. Whilst I have no feelings towards him, even 4 years later – the scars of that emotional time still show, I just don’t feel worthy of anyones love. I mean, why would anyone love or even just fancy me? I’ve got a severe negative body image and it’s a hurdle I just cannot get past. I’ve got to the point where I just cut myself off from guys, I just can’t deal with the heartache that I know eventually comes.
I began having panic attacks almost a year ago, I’m not sure what set me off but I’ve been on beta blockers ever since and in July 2014, I began having pain in my ovaries/womb and this has caused me to gain a lot of weight, have a large amount of time off work and it’s made me, quite frankly, a nervous wreck. So, when my Grandma – my absolute rock – passed away in January, I knew I needed to get help. I cry every single day because I miss her but also because I hate the direction my life has taken and I know the negative spiral is getting smaller and harder to get off. I often get so low that I don’t even want to leave my bed and some weekends I won’t. I’ve got to the point where I’m becoming depressed and I just feel everything and nothing all at the same time.
I finally phoned NHS and booked in for an assessment which I attended earlier this week. It felt good to get things off my chest and the more questions I was asked, the more I realised I had a lot of issues that I needed to deal with, stemming back over 10 years. I’ve been referred for CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) to try and change the way I think and behave to try treat these issues. I sometimes think if I’d had therapy when I was younger, I wouldn’t be so screwed up now.
It does feel better knowing I’ve taken this step, no matter how long I’m waiting for treatment and I hope, in time I can become the person I want to be.
So, this goes back to that whole situation where you only let people perceive you in a certain way and I think sometimes I’m guilty of that. My blog is my place in the world where I can type away to my hearts content and feel better for it. It’s strange, I have all this negative feeling and self-doubt but I feel comfortable writing about beauty, photographing my face and sitting in front of a camera. I guess I’m odd like that.
Do you like these types of posts? I feel like whenever I do a personal post, it screams ‘Negative Nigel‘! I guess I just like a vent of sorts.
Do you ever feel like this, have you had any therapy?
Love, Kate xo
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