My life in general does not suck. But to fully express why I feel pain, I have to tell you the story from very early on. I was a victim of child abuse. My mother loved me a lot when I was a baby but after that when I became a toddler she started to vent her frustrations on me. Almost everyday I would get beaten at least once. I always got so confused why my own mother would hit me so often, but I was very young then and I could only tolerate it as she was still my caregiver and I trusted her to take care of me. It was only when I got a bit bigger, about 9 years old that I slowly realised that what she was doing was wrong. I tried to tell my dad who worked a lot and could not be at home most of the time. He would then help me and intervene, even throw away the cane she would hit me with, but each time she always found a payback time to hit me, this time even harder because I "ratted" on her.
When I got older, in my early teens, I decided enough was enough. I had given her enough years to wake up from her wrongdoing and she didn't change, so I stood up to her and started talking back, telling her what she was doing was wrong. I started to get strong enough to fight back and she didn't hit me anymore, or rather, much less frequent. But she countinued to abuse me, this time not physically, but she intensified the verbal abuse and the shunning, and the deprivation of love. Cruel. I grew up without a mother. As if that wasn't bad enough, I grew up with a woman in the house who behaved like an evil stepmother. I had to buy bras for myself and had to take humiliation of my bras not fitting properly and sometimes exposing me. I had to buy sanitary pads for myself when I started to get my period, and when I borrowed one from her, she kicked up such a big fuss and told me, if I had the guts, I would use my own.
I despise her for being cruel and I despise her for being weak. She simply refused to apologise to me. It was ok, I grew up independent and far stronger than what I would have been. Imagine, if my own mother was so cruel to me, whose shit I wouldn't be able to take?
The ordeal didn't end though. In my first year in university, I moved into the university hostel and suffered severe acne from the bad food they served. I didn't know severe acne would leave scars all over my face. I used to have pimply skin because I have oily skin, but they always cleared themselves and I finally had pimple-free skin before I entered university. Thereafter the acne refused to clear until after a year and a half. By then the unsightly acne scars had already formed on my pretty face. I was heartbroken. Because I always wanted to be beautiful like all the pretty girls in my school. But I grew up an ugly duckling because of my glasses and spectatcles, and I was fat because of all the emotional eating. Then I slimmed down, cleared the pimples, and put on contact lenses, and felt like my life is finally becoming good.
I now have ultra low self-esteem and I absolutely hate my face, hate looking into the mirror, wish I can kill myself. I have contemplated suicide at least five times now since the depression. I have beautiful big eyes that always get double-takes and compliments, straight teeth, a nice smile, and lovely cheekbones, and, before the acne, smooth skin too. I am suffering from depression now after four months, and I am seeing a counselor. She said I have too many issues to work through due to my abuse and referred me to a psychiatrist, whom I am seeing tomorrow. I don’t know how it will go, but one thing I know – I will never get my lovely skin back and it’s killing me.
This sounds like someone else’s story while I was typing it, and in some way I think this reflects how I still cannot come to terms that this story is mine. I want to be beautiful, I want to be perfect, I want to have a happy family who treats me well. But no, reality is extremely cruel. And sometimes after you have been strong, it is not enough and life requires you to be stronger. I say, shit you God, there is no God. I already became so strong and you have to take away the thing that means so much to me. Nothing can break me, but my weak point is my face, and this time it hit where it hurts the most, and that’s why I fell down and am unable to stand up again.
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As for scars, try Remescar - it reduces visibility of new and old scars and helps skin to heal. I saw an advert at pharmacy store, so maybe you could try it. I also had scars but luckily they healed. I think I used Neutrogena back then, but maybe Remescar is better.
Sometimes reality is cruel.. But you have to be patient, cause even this cruel reality will pass. After every rain there will be sunshine. You just have to believe it. I think God wouldn't give us obstacles if he didn't think we could overcome them.
XOXO
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