I hate how I look. I hate it so much. People comment on my acne all the time and it hurts me so much. My sister has it too and I don’t want her to be treated this way... but I’m too embarrassed to bring it up to my therapist cause I feel ashamed about it.

I really hate telling my mom that I'm insecure because she just looks at me super annoyed and is like "I don't know why". Like one time I said I wanted to start working out because I hate how skinny I am and she looked at me like I was trying to fish for compliments or something and I feel like I have to defend myself and I cant talk about it. I feel like I always hate my body and any time I try to do something to fix that I regret it so so much. I was just telling her the other day how i hate myself so much I want to crawl out of my skin and she kind of just told me to work on it but I don't know how?? Ive never loved myself. Ever. I have no clue how to. The only reason I'm not doing worse to myself is because I'll get in trouble. I hate my mind and my body and lately it's been so so bad I can't look at myself without feeling nauseated. The last few months it's just gotten worse and worse I feel like. Any time I try to fix how I look I feel like I don't deserve to feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel like a lost cause at this point. I don't know if I'm ever gonna be fixed.

I just feel like therapy isn’t working… like I get to talk about myself and understand myself… but I’m already incredibly self aware. My therapist thought I was like 5 years older than I am… and she gives me such basic strategies that do absolutely nothing for me. And a psychiatrist prescribed me with Zoloft… but I don’t know if T want to take medication. I’m scared of side effects… and I’m scared of getting better… I’m scared of letting my guard down. I know it will make me less cautious which makes me less likely to push myself to perfection like I currently do, which I can’t have happen. Every time I talk to my mom about it, she’s always like “Let’s talk about this some other time, I’m busy with other things”, and then never remembers. But in the rare moments we do talk about it, she treats it like I’m signing up to be a drug addict. I also feel very guilty for spending so much of my parents’ money- therapy… medication… etc… and also the idea of my being unlovable is so deeply engraved in my brain… I genuinely, truly believe it. No therapy or medication can fix it. I can’t change my mind. My therapist tells me my misophonia is not a “deal-breaker” and that someone would be lucky to have me as a partner… but then why hasn’t anyone ever liked me? My own FAMILY can’t stand me. How do I believe something I know isn’t true? That’s even harder to accept than me being unlovable. I can’t see someone loving me. And it is so incredibly exhausting to seek love,e I know I cannot have. My sister says, “It will get better with age…” It has only ever gotten worse. To the point I don’t want to get better. It has reached the severity where I feel more safe and successful with anxiety. My past 3 birthdays have been me wishing for therapy. And now I have therpay- and medication, the potential key… and I refuse? Am I too deep in? I cant get out, it’s too late. How did absolutely no one notice how much I had and have been hurting? Why did no one listen to my cries or worries? I feel really depressed and hopeless right now. It takes so much effort to get up every day… I’m so tired.

(21+ ONLY PLEASE: TRIGGER WARNING) I’m just so sick of it. I’m letting it win. I’m letting it beat me. I’m losing. I’ve been seeing a therapist but we only meet every two weeks for an hour because of my insurance. I can’t afford any more visits. We’ve been working on ERP but I still feel stuck. Just recently, we went through a drive thru and the kid at the window looked really young. I’m afraid that I found him attractive and I felt a groinal at the thought. I f*cking hate my mind. I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m trying but I still feel like it’s not enough. I’ve let my parents down, my friends and my family. Everyone who knows me doesn’t know the thoughts I have and how sick and disgusted I feel with myself.