I came to a realization at the Dentist today.
I hate myself.
So, I bet you're shocked, right?
I hate hygeine.
I hate washing my hair, showering, shaving, washing my hands, and pretty much any hygiene-related thing you can think of: I hate it. I associate most hygiene with pain or annoyance. I detest brushing my teeth, which is what came up today - since I consistently come into the dentists office with plaque buildup.
I got a good 5 minute sermon on how evil that is to your mouth today. And have been getting that sermon to a smaller extent every time I've gone in for nearly a year. They didn't believe me when I said I just wasn't good with hygeine in general. They're like, "Try harder!"
I detest showering, bathing, or any form of water-related cleaning because people with sores all over their bodies from excema can't be expected to actually enjoy that sort of thing, you know SOAP in OPEN SORES. And don't even get me started on hairwashing, since my head is covered with excema. And by covered I mean if I part my hair nicely there's a nice scabby red line that shows. Now have fun putting soap on that. I spend half my day with a pencap in my ear scratching at the inflamed skin there, attempting to ignore the flaming pain on my scalp, and avoiding any sort of handwashing with soap since my right hand is a massive red blotch. Hopefully none of my real life friends will disown me, since most of them already know I'm a hopeless slob...
But beneath all these things and my horrible problems with eating, I've realized that the root of all of this is that I hate myself.
In fact, this issue is so bad that I caught myself hating myself for hating myself today.
Not a good sign.
When I look deep into my heart at how I feel about me, I come to the conclusion that I'm a fat blob that's useful mostly for her 1337 skills in absolutely every field, someone who couldn't attract men if she were covered in pheremones. (Okay, I haven't tried that. Yet.) Someone who is really quite ugly most of the time, who doesn't try hard enough, and who, quite frankly, would much rather have lived in a day where people considered bathing a once-a-year affair. Which quite possibly contributes to the whole dating thing.
Deep inside this self hate lies a need to somehow make my passable life miserable. And despite what my family continues to present as gospel truth: That I don't learn anything from Scrubs and it's a waste of my time, I've realized several important things from Scrubs, dentist appointments, and deciding to let myself into a crush situation again.
I hate myself, I don't want to be me, and I'm a freaking mess. How's that for what I discovered today. And how eerie is it that I'm still in a good mood? Very, very weird. But then there isn't much about me that isn't weird. Like the fact that having discovered this, I find myself with no desire to change it, improve on my current state, or become a better human being. And guess what that feeds? You got it. The self-hate. How on Earth does one motivate oneself when one considers oneself not worth the bother? And how do you get past a fear of bathtubs and washing your own hair? I can't tell you. I don't know. I don't know how to stop binge eating, either. Or how to eat healthy. Or how to consider myself worth something more than a blob of fat and bones that walks around helping other people out who has never learned how to help themselves. I've had so much appreciation in my life that I can barely fathom how much or how many people care about me. Yet none of it scratches deeply enough to soothe the itch. Much like my real life.
Which is much like Scrubs. Wanting what I can't have. Not wanting to be me. Living in a very odd dreamworld.