Evaluation of My Self-esteem

Last night I debated on doing my homework for this Psych class. Should I put all my thoughts and feelings about myself out in the open to the teacher? Should I admit my biggest weakness? I hate being vulnerable and doing the homework would show my vulnerabilities. After asking myself those questions I realized maybe I should do the homework. Not because I HAVE to, but because I need to stop bottling my emotions.

My homework was to evaluate my self-esteem and write an essay about it. I knew that it was going to hurt letting my feelings out, but sometimes it’s okay to let it out. So to answer the question about how I feel about my self-esteem and how my self-esteem is. I’m going to start from the beginning.

My self esteem was just beginning to form fully when I was only six years old. My mom left me alone with a stranger because my babysitter was late. He was her new boyfriend. A man I barely knew. Now he didn’t rape me or anything, but he did hurt me. I felt like something was wrong with him and begged my ma’ to stay. She’d had work though. When she left I was crying and he started yelling and screaming telling me to shut up. I cried even harder and he called me names. I snapped out and he chased me into my room and cornered me. I was terrified and shaking in fear. I could feel his anger radiating from his body. Cowering away from him he back-handed me across the face and punched me in the jaw.

When my babysitter finally showed up late I hid my face and cried in her arms. When we got to her house, she saw the mark. She asked what happened and I told her. She shook her head and said somebody would deal with it. My grandma found out the next day from my babysitter and she called the cops. I always thought my ma’ had called them, but later on, I found out she didn’t.

She told me I shouldn’t have yelled at him. That I shouldn’t have been a brat. It was my fault. She stayed with him. As I grew up, he was always around. When he was angry he hit me and hurt me. Called me fat, ugly, fatty, worthless, etc. I believed him, I still kinda believe him. I see myself as all of those things because it's all I've ever been told.

As I got older and older, it got worse. He tried to hit my siblings and mother so I would make him mad at me. Make him call me things and hit me. I deserved it anyway. That’s what I thought. I had to protect my family. I was eight and older and was raising five children and two adults.

Too afraid to tell someone. No one believed me anyway. A caseworker told me I deserved to be beaten. I was a bad child. Growing up, I believed I was fat and ugly. Worthless and useless. I would numb the pain by cutting myself up. Physical pain was better than mental pain. It felt soothing. Why did my mom allow him to beat me? To throw me around? To do this to us? She’s an addict. I’m an addict too. I crave a fix of a blunt. Or something to numb the pain. I don’t do it anymore but I did at one point give in to the cravings.

People told me before that, that I would end up like my mother. I believed them. So I did what she does, I numbed the pain with drugs. If I was high nothing could hurt me. Nothing could tear me apart. As I got older I was still protecting my family from him. I went from home to home with other family members because my mom said I ruined everything. Said I deserved it. I acted up at those family members because I couldn’t get close to them, my own mother betrayed me.

I pushed people away because my own family wouldn’t believe me. Wouldn’t listen to my silent cries for help or my screams for it aloud. Only my grandma Laurel did. I went from placement to placement never accepting help. I was worthless. I didn’t need help knowing that. Counselors “tried to help me” but that didn’t work.

All my “friends” betrayed me just as my mother did. My bio-father ended up doing the same. It all built me to believe I am worthless and will end up like my mother.

I only had one person who believed me and never hurt me. My grandma Laurel. She would hold me and tell me things would change. When I was with her I believed her until I went home. She was the reason I started doing the right thing. The reason I fought and tried to survive. Until she died. November 13th, 2017 around one pm. It shattered me. I began to fall into everything I worked so hard to start fixing. I started feeling empty and lost. Sometimes I still feel that emptiness. I lost a part of myself I can never get back.

I stopped fighting and started cutting again. I smoked again. Started drugs again. Everything I worked forward to vanished. I didn’t care anymore. I was worthless and lost. I was going to end up like my mother anyways. Then I went to a kinship foster home. Robin and Dave. Robing worked at Bethesda with me. She was there through it all. I thought I could start fresh. Cambridge Springs High School, a new school. A new town. New friends. New everything.

Soon I realized everything wouldn’t work with them. I felt like crap when I lived with them. Their daughter hated me and treated me like trash. I ignored it until she brought up my past and how she’s been through worse. I finally snapped. It doesn’t matter if you've been through worse. Everyone is going through something. Everyone has a different situation. I was done with her one upping me. I ended up getting kicked out. I blamed myself for it all. I would never have a family. No one would ever care for me. I went to HHYS (Hermitage House Youth Services). Another placement. Another place where no one will actually help or try to care. Or so I thought.

When I first arrived at HHYS I thought it was going to make things worse. It actually didn’t I got a new therapist alone the way. Someone who would listen and not ignore me. I got support, people who cared. I finally have a place I belong, Cambridge Springs. The people aren't too bad. I’m getting help and working on moving forward from my past. I’m trying to build up my self-esteem. I’m realizing that the abuse wasn't my fault. Realizing I can feel good about myself. I can become stronger and become better. I gave up drugs and everything. I changed for myself. I can’t change for others. I needed to change for myself. I am doing that as of now. I’m fighting and surviving. I’m becoming who I am. Not who people have conditioned and convinced me I was going to be.

Sometimes I have flashbacks and everything feels useless. I feel like I can’t control my life or myself. I have the strength to do it though. The strength to move forward from it. Yes, my self-esteem is a work in progress. It’s low but its building and growing. I can do it. I can become who I really am. I control how I feel. I just have to fight on and just keep swimming.