Dear all,

I’m unsure as to where to put my entry, and I apologise in advance if I misplaced it. Additionally, I apologise if my text is not very coherent, I try to keep it down to a minimum, but there is a lot that I have to get out of my system.

I feel like I have a handful of loose ends and I feel at a loss with myself. I think I know what my main “problems” are: my self esteem is not very well developed, I used to be overweight throughout my youth and early adulthood and thus did not feel very comfortable in my body, I tend to live in the past, I have difficulties setting boundaries, I tend to care more about other’s well being than my own and I have tendencies to overanalyse most things. Additionally, I’m prone to holding grudges and I’m really bad at forgiving, I have difficulties managing my anger / impulses. In general, I am a very anxious person, I am afraid of losing people. And, nowadays, I really dislike being alone though I used to enjoy it till I went away for my master studies.

Above all, I often feel like I don’t know my self (let alone my “worth”):  I often think about myself and things I do and wonder if that is who I genuinely am or if I “established” certain traits to make people like me (e.g. always giving a hand when I see others struggling in any way). For a long time, I suspected that a lot of my niceness came from being overweight and feeling like that was a big flaw I needed to counterbalance by being “good”. However, I also remember the story that I almost was not allowed to go to school early (if you want to be schooled at five you have to take some kind of test in Germany to see if you’re ready) because I spent more time helping other kids solving their test than doing my own. So, maybe being nice was not just my way of making up for being fat. But I know for sure that a lot of my emotional instability must have originated in those days. I started cutting when I was about 13 or 14 and I only managed to let go of that coping mechanism about 6 months ago (I am 29 now). In general, I guess that I don’t like myself very much.

At the moment, I am struggling with writing my master’s thesis and that does not go very well either; I have difficulties focusing on the project, I cannot decide for a subject; at the same time I avoid reaching out to my professor for help. I know this behaviour from my bachelor, though I did not waste that much time back then. I think my hesitation to dedicate myself to this thesis is partly because I am afraid of failing (meaning: not getting a good grade, which is, deep down, what I really want because I did not have as much academic success at the university I did my master studies at as I had at my old university) and partly because I am afraid of what comes after, the great unknown. Because, surprise, I do not know what I am going to do afterwards.

In general, the time during my master studies was tough – the city I lived in was far away from home and I did not know anybody there – which was what I wanted when I started because I know that I do not make friends easily and I know that I have to push myself out of my comfort zone. That was the same reason for taking a gap year and choosing the university I did my bachelor studies at. But this time, it did not work out well. I did not connect with the university because it was an academic dumpster, I did not enjoy what was taught there which resulted in mediocre grades. I did not have many friends at university (I managed to find some towards the end of my studies, but they moved away shortly after), the people I lived with were not my friends though I thought so for the longest time, at least with the last two roommates, a boy and a girl, both in their mid-twenties. In the end, both were only interested in what I had to give: listening to their problems, helping them with their problems, taking care of her dog when she worked/ went out, keeping the flat clean, cooking, that stuff. (Though they would never admit it and they did not see it like that, for sure.) He had to leave in December 2017 because he had a serious drug issue, but the one following him was also an addict and not any better company. I felt very alone, no, lonely during this time and as a result (also of lacking “outsider’s” input for most of the time, which is something I kind of rely too much on when I think about it), I spiralled into a severe depression (I’ve known bouts of depression for a long time, but the summer of 2017 was worse than everything I’d known before; I pondered suicide a lot, I stopped eating for days etc., I cut, I smoked a lot of weed, I drew back from my family) because, through it all, what I thought was: Must be my fault, I have the wrong perspective on this situation, I am weird, I expect too much, it is not them, it is me. During that time I also got to know a guy via my roommate whom I lend money to (I had no romantic feelings for him, but I liked him and enjoyed his company because we were so unalike and still connected), no need to say that he did not give it back and I have not heard from him since; funny enough that he is the only one I am not holding a grudge against because he was and probably still is a junkie. It is not an excuse in itself, but I know that he is damaged and I also know that he will suffer from knowing how he treated me if he ever becomes clean.

Once I realised that I had no one to rely on but myself, I worked on taking up  better habits (practicing yoga, doing exercise) and because I did not like being in the flat, I tried to escape into the woods / to the beach as often as I could and I just walked a lot. Eventually, I managed to lose 40 pounds by the time fall came. Last year, I moved back home (to focus on the thesis which is not happening), I managed to lose some more pounds, to stay active, I try to meditate regularly and I try so hard to be better, but I often feel like I’m failing, especially because I still have trouble eating from time to time and still struggle with depressive episodes.

I know that I should be happier and more optimistic (after all, nothing bad happened to me, right?) because I do have a supportive and loving family and inner circle, but I know that those years just messed me up more. They made me more vulnerable and more sensitive and I try to hide this because I do not want to be perceived as weak (though I KNOW that my closest friends know, or at least can sense, how badly that time affected me and I know that they do not hold this against me, at least I hope). However, those experiences hold me back from reaching out to them because I think I already burdened them enough with that stuff, with my emotional inadequacy as such. I remember that I wrote letters in 2017 to some of my closest friends to try to explain what I was going through; one of them did not respond, we only talked about it when I visited her some time after and she said something along the lines that she had not recognised me in the letter and that she had thrown it away shortly after – I felt disappointed because I know that I was there for her in many situations when she needed help and I feel that this thought often nudges at me and that I feel not as close to her as I did before. But I know that I should not let this friendship go just because I feel that she did not support me the way I would have needed it because – well, who am I to be angry at her for this? I know that I would have answered if I had gotten such a letter from any of my friends, but that’s me.

Phew. I am not sure what I want from you poor people who read this, but if you do read it, I thank you and if you have some insights or opinions to share, please feel free to do so.