My journey to finding self esteem was been long and heartbreaking. As someone who has successfully become comfortable with myself and gained confidence in life, it’s really humbling to remember how I used to feel and to know that is how many other women feel about themselves now. I want them to know that it is possible to overcome anything and to defeat any imperfections you feel you have. One of the most important rules to life is that you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else, and you must respect yourself before you can expect them to respect you in return.
I wasn’t tackling just one problem growing up, but many. Weight, frizzy hair, abuse of all forms, and general loneliness and lack of family values.
My mother drank, heavily, during my childhood. Each step-father I’ve had did not hesitate to hit her when she got mouthy. She used to chase me around the house and sometimes she was pretty rough once she got a hold of me. I lived most of my life hidden in my bedroom. We moved dozens of times, so as soon as I made a friend, I lost them. I remember in 1st grade there was a girl who would force me to walk her to her classroom and if I said no, she would punch me in the stomach. A few years later, I got beat up by a couple of boys as I walked home from the bus stop. My mother’s only words of comfort were “You gonna live?”. I was completely lonely, and suffered from lack of affection.
So I stopped loving ME.
The first half of my childhood was spent in various towns in New Mexico. I gained weight quickly because no one was watching my diet. I dressed in my brothers hand me downs and my mothers jeans. My uncle moved into MY room while he was in town and I was already afraid of him because he used to touch me inappropriately while I was asleep when I was barely four
(I developed chronic insomnia that year, and only recovered recently). During that stay, he did expose himself to me but I did my best at ignoring him. As if life wasn’t stressful enough, my hair was frizzy and curly and I was constantly picked on. I was “El chubbita”
(a male friend was called “El Chubbo”) and “Bozo”. They made fun of me for being the “rich” white girl. One of my friends in 5th grade turned against me and told everyone I had Scabes. The entire class avoided me for the rest of the school year even though I was cleared by the nurse. Then I moved to a whole different state.
Florida. And I dearly hate this place even now, 15 years later. I thought the kids back in New Mexico were mean -- but they were angels compared to what I found myself up against now. I had no friends in 6th grade, which is when I “became a woman” and started to blossom. I continued to increase in weight and my hair was just as frizzy and impossible as ever. I always wore it back in a pony tail and then used a headband to keep the fly-aways at bay. I looked ridiculous and boyish everyday. Boys on the school bus made fun of me because I never talked to anyone -- they said it was probably because my father sexually abused me as a child
(my father is dead, btw). I was called fat, ugly, and even had the word “whore” inserted in the middle of my name simply because I wouldn’t do anyone elses homework. I was tortured and made fun of because of my weight and hair. I had a jacket my mother picked up from Goodwill, and I had no problem telling anyone that.
It never really ended during my school career.
High school was just as ugly. I gained even MORE weight. I had no respect and barely had any friends
(thank goodness for my online buddies. I love you guys.). I was still “Frizzy hair” and other stupid names. We moved in the middle of high school experience and I gained 15 pounds because of it. I developed a panic disorder and had attacks at school that kept me in bed for three days at a time. I considered suicide. There were times I could hear my mother scream and be chased by my step dad. I’ve had to pick her up off the ground before and she’s lied to me about her bruises. I once grabbed a steak knife and started up the stairs to their room -- but I also felt that it wasn’t the best choice. I had become completely depressed. I’ve lost count of how many students threatened to beat me up just because they didn’t like me. I moved in with my grandmother, and I started to feel better. At some point, my mother moved to Texas and I was the last to find out. Towards the end of high school I did develop a small band of friends who appreciated me for who I was. I did figure out how to calm my hair and I started trying to control my weight and dressed a little better. I got a job and it was encouraging to have people appreciate me for my contributions and not have to comment on my appearance.
Still, it took years and years. I had several more breakdowns and even went through therapy before something seemed to click inside my head. Maybe because I hated sitting in front of someone and telling them what terrible things people have done to me and how I’ve felt about it. That really wasn’t the point, I decided. The point was how am I going to let that effect me? Why the hell should anyone else define how I feel about me? No one’s opinion matters more then your own. And I knew I was a good person. That deep down,
I was beautiful and I deserved to be treated properly by everyone.
So my hair isn’t frizzy anymore. I’m nearly forty pounds lighter then I used to be. I still have some anxiety around new people and people still judge me, but now they judge me in a different way. They don’t call me fat, or ugly. Those are titles that have scarred me for life, for sure.
I’m not a different person. I appreciate myself. I think of the things I have going for me and I smile. No one else in the world deserves the right to have any control over my self-esteem. That was the key. Controlling my confidence and putting a smile on for the world.
I want every woman to hold her head high and smile, because you are beautiful.
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About fifteen years ago (give or take) I stumbled into a chat room and met Moxie for the first time. We bonded over shared interests and have grown up together - along with several other close friends. We've gone through the pains of growing up - many of which she described above. And we've gone through graduations, heart breaks, weddings, trials, births and much, much more!
To say she's a strong woman is such and understatement. Matt may be my soul mate, but Moxie is my kindred spirit, my sister and my best friend (of which I have very few).
She is proof that women can overcome anything, and that your past may help to create who you are, but it does NOT define you. Love you too, sunflower.
Each week we will use Self Esteem Saturdays to spread joy and love to one another. Please show love for Moxie in the comments below, for being brave and putting herself out there on display to the world.
Note: Pass the word along about Self Esteem Saturday! We need more bloggers out there rebuilding low self esteems and spreading the word that healing is a progress that can be achieved! If you are interested in being featured on Self Esteem Saturdays, please send an email with the title "Self Esteem Saturday" to untypicallyjia@gmail.com
