Posts tagged self worth
Who's That Woman in the Mirror? And Why is She Covered in Sticky Notes?

Hello, my name is Suzanna. And I’m too Emotional.

I’m also too Sensitive, too Needy. I’m IncapableUnqualified. I’m such a SillyGirl.

I’m Mean (if I’m not Nice). Too Loud. Too Quiet. I’m Nice (when I’m not Angry).

My behavior is UnbecomingInappropriateIndecentUnladylikeNaïveNasty.

I’m Like a Sailor (if I cuss). Like a Virgin (when I play Innocent). Like a Whore(when I play).

I’m a Prude. But also a Bad Girl who’s Slutty. A Good Girl who’s Naughty. In short, I’m a MessHelpless. Powerless. Useless.

I’m often Mistaken, and very often Wrong…unless I’m right, then I’m Out of Line. Then I Have It Coming. Because I’m such High Maintenance.

My boobs are too small. My legs are too skinny. My nose too pointy. My clothes are too tight until they’re not tight enough. My hair’s not long enough, but then it’s too short and do I really want to look like a boy? I used to be too young. Now I am too old.

I’m Unworthy. Incompetent. Irrational. Inferior. Not Quite, which means Never Good Enough.

I need to smile more. I need to think less. And I need to be Quiet. Silent. Because shhhh Suzanna, no one wants to hear what you have to say anyway.

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Fairy Tale Turned Nightmare: The Narcissist in Prince Clothing

One of my favorite movies as a young girl was Cinderella. Before I possessed the ability to think with too much reason or logic, I could imagine no better scenario than the man of my dreams coming to rescue me from my wretched existence. The problem with this state of being, however, which lasted into my late twenties, is that my situation was never actually that wretched thus I didn’t need actual saving (at least not by someone else). Attached as I was to the fairy tale, however, it was no big surprise when I met the man who I thought came from my girlhood fantasies and fell hard and fast in love without any fairy godmother to hold me back for a moment and say, “Now hold on just one damn minute!”

Consequently, there was nothing I could do but freefall into his love and ride it like a rollercoaster with my eyes squeezed shut. It was frightening as hell, but I didn’t want to get off.

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I'm Not a Nice Girl (anymore)

I was raised to be “nice.” I didn’t receive any other directions than that so I deduced what being nice meant by learning what it didn’t: nice girls don’t have anything mean to say, nice girls smile even when someone is not nice to them, nice girls are polite to all men no matter how old or creepy or gross they are and no matter what they say, nice girls say only words that people want to hear, and nice girls never ever express how they’re feeling if it means someone — especially a man — is made uncomfortable or challenged in any way.

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