Insecurity: Childhood Origins

I’ve struggled with this post for some time. I have wanted to write it out for a very long time, and thought about posting it on a previous blog I used to write. Its not a easy subject for me, especially since I know it can ruffle feathers of those I am related to. Even though I don’t even share this blog on any of my personal social media sites, I still was hesitant. The last time i blogged opening up about having hurt feelings and feeling like I wasn’t good enough, it caused a lot of harsh words being sent my way. And ironically being told that I wasn’t good enough compared to someone else in the family. Sadly I have learned that I’m not allowed to express when I’m hurt or allowed to speak up. So most of the time I stay a quiet little fly on the wall, blending in with the wallpaper. Because putting myself out there with people who are supposed to love me unconditionally only gets me swatted at. Do I sound pretty insecure? Dang right I am. I don’t like feeling this way, but I have my entire life…

Growing up I always heard people talking about me, and what I would be when I got older. Most of the time it was people telling this to my mother. She was a single mom, and people seemed to think she needed to hear the statistics on single parent kids. And these were her own siblings. And often, they did it with me sitting right there. I grew up hearing how I would be a wild child, into drugs and alcohol, get pregnant young the list goes on and on. And then often I would hear praises and praises on a cousin. Oh she was perfect… didn’t get into trouble, had perfect grades, you name it… If I acheived anything, the topic was somehow brought back to my cousin. My aunt would brag about her straight A report card and then look at my mother like she was expecting the same report, knowing I struggled in school. Once I even heard that with my grades I probably would never go to college anyways. I was 10 at the time… I’ve struggled with depression over the years, and on bad days I can still hear those little digs and statistical facts wrapped in pretend packages of people just looking out for us wanting us to know what we were up against….

I never felt like I was really good enough. And that it was expected that I wouldn’t amount to much. And it hurt, people thinking I didn’t have a future, almost as if I didn’t deserve one just because I came from a single parent home. I ended up with this silent resolve to prove them wrong. School just clicked one day for me and I became an honor student with no effort. I could have done better but I didn’t have the time to dedicate to my studies, I was also working as many hours as I could as a teenager. I was never in trouble with the police, or at school. I wasn’t a wild rebellious girl. Of course I’m not sure how I proved them wrong, as they weren’t in our lives by then. My mother had enough of the backstabbing and stupid fights and such so by time I hit highschool we weren’t in contact with any of her family. I had limited contact with my paternal family as they were all so far away, but at least with them I didn’t feel so inadequate. Unfortunately I didn’t have them around in my younger years, as I didn’t know my father until I was older and even he didn’t want me when it made him look better he claimed me, and then denied me when he thought it would justify him abandoning me.

Getting pregnant my senior year was a monumental failure for me. I felt like I ended up just proving everyone right, that I wasn’t better than that. I was far from promiscious, but I felt like I had the label of whore written under my name. I struggle even over a decade later with reconnections with relatives. I watch these bonds with others growing deeper with people I used to be close to, but it was I was set aside, expected to always be there. I watched when other people’s world fell apart, how supportive everyone was, and when mine started crumbling all I could hear were crickets. I put myself out there, I allowed people to vent and confide in me, I was a shoulder to lean on and then when I wobbled I was discarded.

I struggle deeply with my sense of belonging in any group. I do think it goes back to the first place I felt like I didn’t belong, my own family. The one place you are supposed to feel loved and accepted and worthy.  This is a hard thing to work on. It doesn’t control my every single day existence, but on bad days, it can be consuming. It puts me in a place where I am scared to put myself out there. In both my personal life, and my professional life. It is something that needed to change, and I think opening up about the heartache and origins of where I have these scars from, it can hopefully make it easier to let go. After all, once you take the lid off a bottle, it is easier to empty it. One day at a time.

I don’t think this is why I’m overweight. My depression does play into it, but I think there are many factors in my weight problem, and I want to hold myself more accountable rather than just blaming all my problems on a less than stellar childhood. I’m an adult and I know better in my diet, and I know what I need to be doing now. I think really one of my biggest issues is I am unmotivated in too many aspects of my life, including making real significant long term changes. I let things set me back. I guess sometimes I also think well I’m not good enough chubby or skinny so why does it matter. And the bigger I have gotten the more insecure about myself and if I am good enough. So I guess it does cycle around some. I have plans to make significant changes here pretty soon, and I hope all in all things start looking better for me. I think in ways I have hit rock bottom with my anxiety, insecurity, and my body image. Lets start climbing back up! Claw my way out of this hole for sure.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s