Some days, I spend hours insulting myself. I chastise myself whenever I do the smallest thing wrong. Even when the mistake is minor, something nobody else will even notice, I will treat it like an end of the world scenario. I will keep finding more and more reasons to hate myself. I will pile up my faults until I cannot see anything else.
Some days, I become so self-conscious that I cry out of frustration. I will get mad at myself for failing to lose weight, for not having anything nice to wear, for looking like an idiot in front of a group of people, for not having the courage to raise my hand in class or ask my boss for a raise. I mentally abuse myself. I tear myself apart until I reach my breaking point, until I cannot hold my emotions inside for any longer.
Some days, my mind gets trapped in a loop of the past. My thoughts torture me by replaying every awkward moment, every rejection, every failure. Things from years ago that shouldn’t even bother me anymore make me sick to my stomach. Then I look in the mirror and pick out every single flaw on my face, on my body, inside my soul. I list out hundreds of things I hate about myself but struggle to come up with a single thing I like about myself. I only see the negative.
Some days, I don’t want to get out of bed because I don’t see the point when I am not going to leave the house, I am not going to see anyone, I am not going to do anything productive. I don’t see the point in texting anyone back either because it’s not like they will notice I am not answering. It’s not like they will mind. It’s not like I am important enough for them to think about for more than a passing minute.
Some days, I lose faith in myself. I assume things are never going to get any better. I convince myself that nothing good is going to come my way, and even if it did, I wouldn’t deserve it.
And then there are other days. Days when I look at my reflection and actually like what I see staring back at me. Days when I snap a picture of myself and feel confident enough to post it where the world can see. Days when I tell a joke that makes somebody I love laugh aloud or when I impress myself with how well I applied my eyeliner. There are days when I put hating myself on pause. Days when I decide I am actually okay. Days when I catch a glimpse of my self-worth.
Despite those cliche sayings about choosing happiness and choosing to love yourself, I cannot control when those days happen. I never get to decide when I am going to fall into self-loathing or when I am going feel good about myself. All I can do is remind myself that the bad days are not going to last.