I hate that my husband is more confident than me. — Even if it is all in my head.
I wasn’t always like this. By this, I mean filled with anxiety and self-doubt. So much so that I don’t recognize myself in the mirror anymore.
I couldn’t wait to take a shower last night so I could cry in peace.
How did I let this happen?
How did I go from soaring high with confidence and charisma to being SO unsure of myself? I don’t even look people in the eye anymore.
Is this what ten years of motherhood does to us?
My husband has no idea how shitty I feel about myself. It’s embarrassing. And unattractive.
I’m working on it.
I’ve been on a self-care kick ever since my dad had a breakdown back in 2015.
It’s been a struggle to keep my shit together. Some days I don’t. But overall, I’ve made some great progress. A few years ago, you bet your ass I’d be lying in bed instead of caring about anything. I’ve come a long way from the days of withdrawing from life.
Still, self-care is not enough.
I have to believe beyond a reasonable doubt that I’m worth the work. I have to believe that I’m worth the effort before I actually make the effort.
I’ve been living in the shadows of my family for so long. I’m tired of not feeling like myself. — Or caring enough to find me again.
I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough. I’m tired of feeling like a victim.
And I’m tired of talking about it.
I love my husband more than life itself. — More than a wife loves her husband. I love him as a human being and as a friend. But damn, do I feel resentful.
Why does he get to feel good and I don’t?
I resent his oozing confidence about where he’s at in life while I’m struggling to keep the dark circles under my eyes at bay. I resent the way all of his clothes from ten years ago still fit him. And his positive attitude, while I’m over here riddled with anxiety and depleted self-worth.
I hate how shitty I feel about myself.
I also hate my victim mentality. Being stuck in that space leaves no room for either of us to feel good. Most of all, I’m jealous of the way he can put himself first, and still be an amazing dad.
Resentment doesn’t look good on me.
I’m calling bullshit on myself.
“Self-care” isn’t about drinking more water and taking me time. It’s knowing that I’m worth that time. It’s knowing that my body deserves better things in it than anxiety and McDonald’s cheeseburgers. It’s about taking the time to feel good because I’m worth that time. Even as a mother of two, it’s knowing that I deserve to ask for what I need. I deserve to get my needs met. It makes me a better mom in the long run. Since consistency is my biggest downfall, it’s about making a plan and sticking to it.
10 Ways I’m Going To Learn To Love Myself Again
- Hop off the Train (Of Negativity). — Be more aware when the self-loathing starts, and mindful enough to stop it dead in its tracks when it does.
- Have lots of sex/orgasms. — Be confident in the bedroom again and enjoy myself. ( I’m really coming around on this one.)
- Run, stretch, lift heavy things, do shit and keep moving.
- Make time to do the things I love. (Like write my little heart out and play my guitar)
- Keep clothes that feel good. Donate the rest. #doesitsparkjoyornot?
- Turn the mom/wife dial down to a simmer and rediscover me on a weekly basis.
- Take pride in my appearance again. — One day at a time.
- Look people in the eye and know my worth.
- Continue to set small attainable goals for myself. (Not broad jumps that set me up for failure.)
- No fast food.
These ten things are my goals for the month of May. — Simple, right? I’m hoping if I stay consistent, I will start to fall in love with myself again.
Thank you for listening. ❤
Previously published on Medium.com.
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