I have this thing that I constantly do: I date these guys who are not really on my level. And before you kick me off my high horse, let me explain. I’m 31 year-old woman, single, with a university education, a great job and my own place. I’m a fucking joy to be around and I’m pretty funny (for the most part). I’m attractive and intelligent, yet I keep finding and dating these insecure, broke, men with no future or ambition (They’re just like stray dogs at this point, just following me home because I smell of goals and ambition). I could go on but honestly I can’t afford to have a breakdown at work (only 4 a year and I’ve almost reached my yearly limit). Why is that so many successful women date these kind of guys? I’m not gonna say it’s settling, because that would imply that something better will come along, when we all know that it probably won’t. Let’s call it reality. These bum ass men are dating women they couldn’t even get in their wildest dreams, but yet here they are reaping the benefits of a strong and driven women, while having nothing to offer in return. Ain’t that a bitch…
There are days where I feel like I could fucking out-walk Naomi Campbell and there are days where I feel like a GIGANTIC cow, literally rolling down the street because my legs have disappeared in my gigantic belly. I’ve had days where I will do everything to avoid seeing my reflection. I know as I’m writing this, how utterly ridiculous this shit sounds, but I feel like someone out there knows what I’m talking about. Your thighs/ass/stomach/whatever else are not looking like you think they should or could (Breast lift fund for my 45th is a thing now). We all know that all of us have varying degrees of insecurities about the way we look, facts of life. And for some, hating the way they look is 24-hour job. Society has done a great job of convincing us that we will never be perfect until we have abs of steel, big boobs, tiny waist and a big ass. So why not continue their sordid work for them. There are entire industries making billions off your low self-esteem, and ladies, business is fucking good.
Sometimes, I sit around with my girlfriends and I’m amazed by the fact I know such strong and astonishing women. Women whose strength and individuality shines so bright that you’ll will be blinded. Women who will not dim their shine for anyone, but also know how close ranks and be that great girl gang that we all need and should have in our lives. I’ll be first one to say that I’m pretty weird about the people I choose surround myself with. After years of maintaining toxic and sometimes dangerous friendships, I was able to rid myself of them and rebuild my inner circle with people who meant the world to me. I used to be such a people pleaser, and because of that I pretty much lived off others’ approval of me. I had this idea that friendship, or any relationship for that matter, meant that I had to put their needs ahead of mine.I thought that suffering and sacrificing in silence would make me some sort of Mother Theresa (probably one of one most fucked up ways I’ve treated myself), but instead I became depressed, unhappy and resentful. No one noticed my martyrdom and when they did notice they didn’t give any kinda fucks about them. The way I felt about myself was a reflection of the people I chose to surround myself with, and many of them were absolute garbage.These friendship didn’t cause me to have low-self esteem but they were made because of low my self-esteem.
I’ve always envied people who were emotionally over the top, who could cry at the drop of hat, without having to go through a gut-wrenching, breakdowns (in the shower mostly) that I have about 3 times year. Expressing how I feel has never come easy to me. I like to joke to friends that I ultimately dead inside, unless you count the brewing anger inside of me at all times (OK, so maybe like 70% of the time). I have a fucking hard time recognizing the emotions that I go through on daily basis, and an ever harder time letting others know. In the last few months, I’ve been pushed to the brink of emotional suicide (I’m not sure if that’s a thing but…). No longer feeling like that “strong black woman” that I’ve always portrayed to the world. I didn’t feel like my regular, neurotic and pessimistic self. This was the first time that I thought to myself that I may be feeling this way for a while and there’s nothing else to do but to sit in it. So I spent most of October and November crying, like I’m talking 3 years worth of tears and still felt no better. I couldn’t figure out why I was so uncomfortable admitting to close friends that I was hurt and dying inside. I’ve always been hidden about my real feelings for as long as I could remember but I’m not sure how I got to be this way.