4/365: Self-hate

It’s a strange thing, really, isn’t it?
We always preach self-love and acceptance for other people.
We compliment. We admire.
We rarely think the things about other people the way we think about ourselves.

When we see someone pretty or handsome, we compliment and lust.
When we see someone who isn’t as “pretty” or “handsome” by society standards, we still compliment them because they’re attractive in their own way and light.
There’s something unique about them that makes us want to be a little more like them.
When someone is able to their scars without shame, we find their confidence bold and daring, we wish to be like them. To be able to show confidence in our skin.
The point is, there is something we like about everyone and anyone.
Whether desirable or not, we compliment their physical appearance and/or their personality.

But what about when it comes to us? We can rarely say the same.
We put ourselves down.
And just when we think that we’ve hit rock bottom, but far down enough.
We keep digging a hole to bury ourselves deeper.
A place so deep that even when we realize how far we’ve sunk, it’s nearly impossible to climb out. And when we try, it’s so easy to slip back down. All the way down.

I am a girl with blemishes.
So. Many. Blemishes. So many red spots. So many breakouts. So many spots on my face that I hold myself accountable for. If only I took better care of my skin. If only I exercised more. If only I ate cleaner foods.
But the reality is, I have sensitive skin, and just about anything will break me out.
Sometimes it’s genetics and environmental factors that is out of our control.
I mean, yeah it may be genetics and environmental factors when it comes to other people, but when it comes to us? No way, Jose. It’s all our fault. All my fault.
We penalize ourselves way too much, I for sure know that I do.
We have the need to cover up because we’re scared of what other people are going to say to us. I cover up because I am so scared. I feel that other people are going to think negatively of me as I do for myself. And being in Korea has amplified that feeling. People here seem so much more focused on appearance. I keep beating myself down for not bringing my foundation. My mascara. I keep thinking that if I did bring them, I’d be so much happier and at ease with my new blemishes that came with the changing environment and time difference.
So today, I’m going to buy myself a whole new face. I just hope that I won’t be embarrassed to look at people, to show my lack of confidence any more than I need to or should.

Being here I was also tempted to get double-eyelid surgery. It’s the norm. I would fit in. Maybe my eyes will seem more awake in pictures. Maybe I will be prettier. Maybe people will like me more. Maybe I will like me more.
But the reality is, it’s not me saying that this will make me look more pretty, it is just society.
Society implementing its views on me.
Me, a vessel for circulating norms and standards.
Unreasonable standards.
A standard that promotes self-rejection.
I just want to be happy and I keep thinking that what if this is my key to happiness?
I keep thinking that if I looked picture perfect I can pretend that my life is perfect and everything will be perfect and fall into place.

I have a long journey to self-love.
I’ve had a past of negative relationship with food.
I needed to be skinny. I had to eat less and less.
I had to be the thinnest out of all the people that I knew, of all the people around me, and of all the people I know knows.
It’s gotten better now, after 4 years. My relationship with food is being restored, but I know that there is my anorexic self in the back of my mind. Sitting in the dark corner. Putting thoughts in my mind.
I try to overcome, but when the voice is too strong, I lose my appetite and become anxious and nauseous.
And I feel gross with myself.
I hate myself for feeling this way.
I want to start over.

I want to start my life over again.
To start over and be better. To have a life without any of these thoughts and feelings.
To start without self-hate.
Self-hate is learnt and I cannot forget it.
It’s toxic, but we love it.


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