what’s wrong with me

This is what’s wrong with me.

Exploring what’s wrong with me was a very mentally challenging process. There were so many aspects I could’ve included, but narrowed it down to what impacts me the most. To start, I use marijuana as a coping mechanism. I have anxiety and depression, along with awful sleep issues. Smoking marijuana allows me to calm down and have more restful sleep. But, I use it everyday and continue to act like it’s not a problem. It’s part of my daily routine and I’ve become dependent on it. Next, my room gets messy. Like, REALLY messy. This is due to my depression. There are days or weeks or even months in which I can’t physically force myself to clean my living space. This causes issues because since I also have anxiety, messes stress me out. So I’m caught in a cycle of not being able to clean up after myself and being anxious about it being so messy. I’ve always been ashamed of this aspect of my life, because individuals tend to label those in the same boat as me as “dirty” or “disgusting.” I don’t want to be seen as disgusting. I just struggle so much on a daily basis that a lot of times, the second photo shown is what my life looks like.

Along with the issues of mental health in my life, something that has always seemed to be “wrong” with me is my body. I have had problems with how I view myself and my body for as long as I remember. Having skills with Photoshop is a blessing and a curse as it allows me to alter my body and my face in ways that are seemingly unnoticeable to others, but exponential to myself. I have laid out sets of images of my face and my body in which the photograph on the left is the original, and the one on the right is what I would like myself to look like or how I would edit it if I were to show it to people on social media. And though I would like to think that my body is the thing that is wrong with me, what’s really wrong with me is my perception of it and how I view myself. I don’t know love when it comes to my body and I don’t know acceptance.

With body issues came specific aspects of my body that were “wrong” in my eyes. In the 6th photograph shown, it depicts my torso. I have a birthmark on my side which I never noticed much, but growing up I grew to hate for no reason. Maybe it was because when I gained weight it was more noticeable, being on my “muffin top,” or maybe it was because others’ birthmarks were usually darker than their skin tone and mine was lighter. I was always afraid of being different. Next shows a photograph of my thigh. I have scars there, from self harming as a middle schooler. I hate wearing swimsuits or shorts that ride up too high. It shows those scars. I’m scared of what people will think. To me, it serves as a reminder of some of the lowest points in my life. A time where I didn’t value my life and just wanted to be gone. I don’t like thinking about those times. It hurts. And finally, portrayed by the eighth photograph, I bite my nails. A lot. I’ve never used nail clippers on my fingers. Having anxiety for as long as I can remember is the blame for this. We also have very addictive personalities in my family. So, every nail biting remedy I’ve tried has failed. When I get my nails done, the aestheticians comment on them every time without fail. My fingers are ugly. I’m scared that others will think so, too. I hate my fingers and my nails.

Body issues aren’t the only thing I see wrong with me, though. The fifth photo I included is one of my face very close up, showing tears. As a child, I was known as a “crier.” I grew up with 4 older siblings, 3 of which are brothers. I cried. A lot. And everyone including myself thought it just came with being the youngest. But as I grew older I noticed that crying was almost like a daily routine for me. I would cry at the smallest setbacks. I learned later that excessive crying comes along with depression. People still brush it off as me being a crybaby or immature, but it’s not something I can control. I usually see it as just another thing that’s wrong with me. I’m an adult who can’t control her emotions. If there is a situation that overwhelms me, I will cry. No matter how hard I try not to.

This is what’s wrong with me.