Brain, please STFU!

Not sure how to begin this. I have been struggling a little bit in the last couple of days with insecurities and lower self-esteem than usual. Stupid brain thinking about things too much. And it always seems to be male-related *sigh*.

So where did this all start? At the end of 2007 I had lap band surgery. This is something that is still a bit sensitive to me, and I don’t make it public, but I will talk about it if people ask. I was majorly overweight, and for me having the surgery was a last resort. I won’t go into all the background leading up to it, because unless you have been in the same situation you really can’t relate and the number of well-meaning people throwing their two cents worth into the equation I had had more than enough of. Your grandma making you cry on the phone by telling you as a teenager that ‘you’d be so pretty if you weren’t so fat’ is not something you forget easily. Combined with the fact that I was a nerdy straight A student, I had almost no self confidence for many years.  Dating was pretty much non-existent. I was sociable and had male friends, but none that I thought would ever want to go out with me.

Fast forward to the age of 31, I decided on the somewhat radical approach (in many people’s opinion) and went for surgery. I could prattle on about every other method under the sun that I had tried previously, but it’s moot now. I wasn’t unhealthy physiologically, but I was psychologically. I wasn’t happy with the way I looked; I wanted to lose the weight to get fitter and to avoid family health problems. Suffice to say, I made the decision and only told my immediate family. Took a week off work, paid for the surgery myself (wasn’t covered by my private health insurance and I wasn’t waiting). It took a while, but I lost 50 kilos. The thing I remember the most was that Justin Timberlake’s concert was the day I came out of hospital. There was no way that I was missing that! Mum was a bit concerned, but I analgesed myself up and went.

As the weight dropped off, people obviously began to notice and a few asked questions. Slowly as I felt comfortable, I would tell people about the surgery. Almost everyone was very supportive and happy for me, but there were the odd few that considered it ‘cheating’ and questioned why I took such a radical route. The saddest thing about this journey was losing some friends, one very close. There was a fair bit of jealousy and I don’t think in the end they really understood why I did it or why I kept it to myself.

When I hit my doctor’s target, I felt great. I was not over-brimming with confidence, but I was happy with myself, proud of what I had achieved and I felt ready to face the world as a ‘new’ person. I knew nothing had changed about me, apart from my clothes size and the fact that I was more outgoing. I’ve put on about 10kg since, but it feels more manageable and I like not having to be as strict with things.

So then I started dating properly. And it was really hard, a lot harder than I expected. I’d meet guys, they’d seem interested but all the time I would keep feeling insecure about my looks, my body and what could anyone possibly see in me? It took one brave guy who had a lot of problems of his own to get me to open up and see how much I had to offer.

I guess as I’ve gone through the dating game, particularly in the last year (some of which I’ve blogged about), the not getting called back / getting dumped / cheated on etc etc has given my self esteem a bit of a hit. The old insecurities are creeping back. And I don’t like it. I know this isn’t unique to me, it happens to the majority of single people. I know it’s flawed thinking, that I am this smart, wonderful, sexy woman who anyone would be privileged to get to know. But every time something happens I go back to that shitty place, like when I had to go to my year 12 formal with a girlfriend because no one asked me.  I had just imagined that those feelings were all in the past. So I refuse to be a slave to my self esteem anymore. I don’t want to feel like crap and unattractive and undesirable every time this happens. I will continue being my honest & fabulous self; assume that the universe knows what it’s doing with me, and that everything will work out right in the end.  Hopefully not before I’m ancient.